


Two's Company When Three's Allowed

by Awakening5



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, Love triangle between two people and a secret identity, Pegging, Smut, Strangers to Friends With Benefits to Lovers, They're friends with benefits, a lot of smut, but who are definitely idiots, libidos the size of New York, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awakening5/pseuds/Awakening5
Summary: "This stays exactly what it is. A mutually beneficial agreement where we satisfy each other's physical needs. Nothing more."Peter snorts. "Ok, Ms. Lawyer. Are you gonna get this into a contract I should sign?"She rolls her eyes with a smile. "I'm serious, Peter. No feelings. No complications."-When Peter and MJ break their rule and fall for each other, both set their sights on Spider-Man as a solution. MJ will try to get over Peter. And Peter will take a second shot at Michelle.
Relationships: Betty Brant & Michelle Jones, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker
Comments: 156
Kudos: 152





	1. An Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> I have returned to where it all started. An absurd set-up in order to set up an even more absurd love triangle between two people. It's good to be home.

“So, Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“Having this drink with you is nice…”

“Yeah…”

“But we didn’t connect on that app for drinks.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you say we get out of here. Go back to my place?”

“Yeah.”

“Not sure what happened to talkative Peter, but I’m a big fan of you only telling me yes.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Michelle. But I plan on making full use of my mouth tonight.”

-0-0-0-

When Michelle had swiped right on a cute-looking guy, whose profile indicated he was in grad school at ESU who was just looking for a fun time, she thought it was too good to be true. Thirty minutes in the bar with him, and she definitely thought he was too good to be true. His pictures undersold how hot he was, his academic status undersold how smart he was, and it turned out he was every bit looking for the casual hook-up she was.

And after thirty minutes in bed with him, she is convinced Betty has hired an escort and is messing with her, because every single box is checked. Every wild fantasy she could have realistically hoped for in a one-night stand has been fulfilled.

He comes with a beautiful moan, and collapses into her moments after her own orgasm swept through her. Her third of the night, to be clear. Which...she's not quite sure how that's possible considering they were new to each others' bodies.

He rolls his absurdly cut body off of her with a stupid smile on his face. It makes Michelle grin despite herself. Her chest is still heaving, and she's still trying to catch her breath, but she can't help but tell him every word she's thinking. "My god, Peter. That was...incredible."

She turns her head to see his reaction, but all he seems capable of through his own breathlessness is several almost-violent nods in agreement as he pulls the condom off and ties it.

Buoyed by his wordless enthusiasm, Michelle continues her from-mind-to-mouth assault. "We'll just have to keep doing it then."

He finally turns his head with raised eyebrows. "Like, right now, or you want to meet up again?"

She can't help but laugh. "Well, both. But specifically the latter. I know we are both using that app because we're just looking for hookups, but—"

Peter nods again, and picks up where she trails off. "But if we didn't need to keep going back to the app—"

She rolls to her side, and runs her hand up Peter's unfairly chiseled abs and chest. "I'm glad we're on the same page because I think it would take me a hundred swipes before I strike gold like this again."

Peter scoffs, and catches her by the wrist. "A hundred. Clearly I've got some work to do if that's all it would take." He brings her fingers to his lips to kiss.

Michelle smirks, and the fire rekindles in her gut. "Then by all means, get to work."

-0-0-0-

Her fingernails dig into his chest, her head thrown back. She's close, he can tell. Which is a relief, because he's right on the edge himself. He thrusts up into her while she rolls her hips. "Fuck, Michelle—I'm, I'm..."

She comes around him, faltering forward onto his chest. She lets out a strangled cry into his neck, and that pushes him over the edge.

He holds her tightly to him as they both shake and breathe out in ecstasy. She doesn't roll off of him after their comedown, and Peter wouldn't have it any other way. To be fair, she's probably pretty exhausted, Peter thinks with satisfaction.

"So...how's this going to work?" he asks after he softens and slips out of her. She rolls off of him with a groan, and tugs at the blankets of her bed while he takes care of his second condom of the night.

"Well, I'm in my first year at the firm," she tells him. Which, she doesn't need to. He remembers from their brief conversation at the bar. Which, he _also_ frankly hadn't needed. He'd known the second she walked into the bar how he wanted the night to end. "And I need to focus. So...nights are kind of the only thing that work for me. And some weekends."

Peter nods. He can make that work. Of course, crime is more likely at night. But if he's learned anything over the last few years, it's that he needs a release. And _fuck_ what a release tonight was. The idea that it can be this easy now, without the lottery that is Swiping Right, means Peter might finally get his school and work and Spider-Manning on track. Or at least _less_ chaotic, if he's not worrying about the need for human touch.

"So, what, we just call if we're..."

"Feeling horny?" Michelle chuckles. She's covered herself with her sheet now, which Peter's a little disappointed by. He could look at her all day. But he can feel the sweat on his body cooling him rapidly now that they've stopped, so he gets it. "Okay, but Rule number One, we can always say 'no' without feeling like we've let the other person down."

Peter sighs in relief. Spider-Man will have to say 'no' now and then, no matter what Peter wants. "Great. Yeah. Agreed. Um, Rule Two might sound a little weird..."

Michelle frowns. "What...?"

"This isn't me trying to make more of this than what it is, by the way," she tries to say. But Michelle's not having it. She rolls her eyes, and motions her hand to tell him 'out with it.'

"This should be exclusive," he says.

She narrows her eyes. "You mean..."

"I _mean_ , I don't like the idea of either of us sleeping with a bunch of people. It's all about health and safety, and keeping things uncomplicated. I don't want to be the elephant in the room of whatever your social life becomes. If you've got someone you want to fuck, or you decide you want to start dating someone seriously, _this_ ends," he concludes, waving between the two of them.

Michelle bites her lip. "That could clash with Rule One. If you keep saying no, and I'm particularly on edge," she says. But it's not a no, she's just thinking it through.

Peter nods. "I get that. If it helps, I don't think I'll be saying no often," he says with a chuckle. "I just..."

"No, I get it," Michelle says, and he thinks she does. "For one, I also don't like the idea of you coming over literally minutes after you've slept with someone else. Plus, It might _prevent_ a clash with Rule One, too. Like, if you're my only booty, I'm more likely to say yes when you come calling."

Peter laughs. He really did hit the jackpot with her.

Her face grows serious after sharing in his laughter for a moment. "But listen, Peter. That could also cause problems with Rule Three."

"Which is?"

"This stays exactly what it is. A mutually beneficial agreement where we satisfy each other's physical needs. Nothing more."

Peter snorts. "Ok, Ms. Lawyer. Are you gonna get this into a contract I should sign?"

She rolls her eyes with a smile. "I'm serious, Peter. No feelings. No complications."

Peter nods. He hasn't had a serious relationship since Gwen. It's been years now, of course. But he doesn't think he'll ever feel that way about someone again. Rule Three won't be a problem. "Got it."

-0-0-0-

Michelle is a little sore the next day. A wonderful kind of sore. The kind that makes her smile in the shower and as she gets ready for the day. The kind that has her _satisfied_.

She's less stressed at work that day, too. It's only now that she can admit she's been a bit tightly wound. She's had good reason, of course. She's given all of the shitty cases, at a firm specializing in something she has no interest in doing long-term. And she gets that everyone has to start somewhere, and building her resume is vital. But it still sucks getting paid less than everyone else here to do the worst of the work for over seventy hours a week.

But today? Today is okay. She's got the memory of Peter's tongue dipping inside of her to pass the time. The intensity of his eyes as he looked up from between her legs. The timber of his voice vibrating through her while he mumbled how good she tasted.

By the time she gets home that night, she's no longer _satisfied_.

She putters around her kitchen, throwing a meal together quickly, shaking her head of the thought coming back to her over and over. She ignores her phone, and the pull she has to it. Instead she cooks. Cuts the veggies, throws a couple potatoes in the oven, and _thinks_. Remembers.

It's already fairly late, she tells herself while she's eating. She really should just turn in. Her eyes drift unbidden to her phone.

-0-0-0-

The scientist that he is, Peter tries to quantify why he's in so much better a mood today. He's jerked off plenty of times, given his body the same chemical release, right? And yet, it's not the same.

It's not even like his research for Dr. Connors goes especially well. One of the lizards they'd been experimenting with that had shown so much promise rejected the treatments. Connors yelled at him for being late. But Peter felt good through it all, even before Connors apologized to him later.

When he goes out as Spider-Man for the day, he feels rejuvenated. The crime never stops, and sometimes it can wear on Peter. But not today. He helps out several strangers and stops a high-speed chase before anyone gets hurt.

When he gets home, and Ned points out his stupid grin, Peter tries to use Spider-Man success as his reasoning.

"It was just a good day is all," he says with a wave of his hand before shoving an entire pizza slice in his mouth.

"Dude, the last time Spider-Manning made you this happy was in high school. What's up?"

Peter sighs. "I...met someone," he says, and immediately regrets opening like that. Ned's eyes go wide. "Not like that!" he's quick to rectify.

Ned only shakes his head. "Dude, you haven't seen anyone seriously since Johnny. And even that—"

"Wasn't serious," Peter finished for him. Peter had _wanted_ it to be serious. But the feelings only ran so deep for him. Johnny had started to feel more, and Peter...couldn't get there. He suspected he never would again. "This isn't either."

Ned looks sad. "Alright. Well I'm glad they're making you happy. What's their name?"

"Michelle," Peter grins. "And she knows it's not serious. We came up with ...a deal of sorts. An agreement, really."

Ned narrows his eyes. "Are you being gross?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "Tell me how two consenting adults agreeing to help each other out is gross."

Ned nods. "Fair enough. But every time I've heard about these sort of arrangements, it never goes the way you expect."

Peter scoffs. "You mean in the dozen rom-coms you've watched featuring friends with benefits?" Ned doesn't answer, which is his answer. "Look, Ned, this could last two weeks or a year. We both know what it is."

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out. A text from Michelle. Peter grins and opens the text.

_Friendly reminder that Rule One is real._

A second text follows shortly after.

_How soon is too soon to ask for that booty?_

Peter laughs aloud and his fingers have the reply out in an instant.

_I can be there in twenty minutes._

He watches blinking dots as she forms a reply, anticipation building.

_Oh fuck yes thank you. See you soon_

He pockets his phone, and stands from the table. He reaches for another slice and shoves it in his mouth. He'll have to shower real quick, and brush his teeth. And he should probably wear something other than a pair of sweats. He really should have said thirty minutes.

Before he turns to leave, he catches Ned's bemused look.

"What?"

"You both know what it is?" Ned repeats to him in monotone. Ned looks at him, unimpressed. And yeah, Peter can see how his stupid grin might reflect emotions greater than one expects from such a relationship. But...well, he's horny and the sex was _that_ good. Michelle obviously thought the same.

Peter chuckles. "Oh believe me. We know what it is."


	2. Wise Men Say

"So, it's good to know the first day wasn't an anomaly."

"Yeah."

"Oh are you doing the answer-'yeah'-to-everything thing again?"

"No."

"Cute."

"Why _thank you_ Michelle! You're cute, too."

"Oh my god, I didn't realize you were this big of a dork."

"Ah, you like it."

"...Yeah."

"Ha!"

-0-0-0-

Peter has...frightening stamina.

Not bad frightening. Just...like...Michelle's left wondering what strange herbs he's using that he could be making millions off of for his ability to last as long as he does, and then be ready for round two (and three, apparently) as quickly as he is.

"How are you ready to go again already?" she asks as she strokes him between their bodies as they lie on her bed.

"You're really asking me that while you're working me over?" he asks with a grin. He leans forward to kiss her. "Isn't the answer obvious?"

"As flattering as your suggestion is, some things have nothing to do with the partner or stimulation. It's basic physiology."

Peter shrugs. But she doesn't miss the way his eyes flicker away from her. Yes, he must be taking some herb or medication. As long as he's not being irresponsible, she's having a hard time complaining. "Guess I got blessed with good physiology then."

She shifts on top of him and straddles his legs, just below his knees. She uses her free hand to trace the hard ridges of his abs, his v-line, and down to his powerful thighs. "You sure did," she says, a little breathless.

He smirks initially, but it softens into a warm smile. He sits up and leans forward to capture her in another kiss. "I'm not the only one. You're fucking gorgeous, Michelle. I couldn't stop thinking about last night all day today."

She continues to stroke him lazily as their lips move together. When they pull back, she puts a hand to his chest, and pushes him back to the bed.

"Let me give you something to think about tomorrow then," she says, knowing full well the last hour had already supplied him (and her) with plenty.

Still, he's gone down on her twice in the last couple of days, and she's been itching to return the favor. As she pulls her hair out of the way and bends down towards him, Peter must sense what's coming. "Oh fuck," he whispers, and she licks a stripe along his length. "I'm not going to be functional tomorrow."

She hides her smile by taking him in her mouth.

-0-0-0-

Peter had been functional, of course. Though thoughts of Michelle had been admittedly distracting throughout the day, he had a new pep to his step. Dr. Connors had commented on it. A criminal he webbed up had said Spidey was more friendly than usual. And now Ned is grinning at him from his seat at the kitchen counter.

"You know, I still don't think this is going to go the way you think it is, but I'm happy for you Peter."

Peter busies himself around the kitchen, boiling some pasta and stirring the heating sauce. He smiles at Ned, and tries not to think about his phone burning a hole in his pocket. "Thanks Ned. And don't worry, we'll prove you wrong."

"Sure, sure," his best friend says. Peter would find it patronizing if he and Ned didn't give each other shit about everything. "So, what's her deal?"

"Deal?" Peter asks, running a fork through the noodles to see how close they were.

"Yeah," Ned speaks threw a mouthful of rice and chicken. "You've obviously got some baggage and a libido the size of New York that have combined to form—well, whatever it is you are."

"Ouch," Peter says with a grin. Something like this might have actually hurt him a few years ago, but he and Ned have had enough real talks and know each other's hearts well enough that Ned and he can be blunt and leave out flowery language to get to a point.

"So, how does a woman you met for thirty minutes agree to a long-term fuck-buddy situation?"

Peter shrugs. "She's busy. Wants to focus on her career—just graduated from Harvard Law, by the way. She's brilliant—and doesn't have time or energy for a real relationship."

Ned looks contemplative. "Pretty?"

"Astoundingly," Peter says, thinking about the way her body moved last night. He wants to experience all of it. He resists the urge to pull out his phone. Instead, he drains the boiling water from the pot.

"Easy to get along with?"

Peter pauses, and looks askance at Ned. "What are you doing?"

Ned has the audacity to put on his innocent face. Please. As if Ned has been innocent in nearly a decade.

"I'm just trying to figure out who has you so...bouncy...after just two days!"

Peter still doesn't trust him. The questions feel leading, to borrow a term he's sure Michelle would use. "Yeah, she's easy to get along with. Then again, we don't really do anything outside of the bedroom...so..."

Ned nods. "I don't need details, obviously."

Mentions of details make Peter _really_ want to text her now. "And I don't want to give them to you." He dumps the spaghetti sauce right into the pot of strained noodles. He doesn't have time for plates.

Instead, he ignores Ned's observant eye and digs in to his late dinner. And pulls out his phone. And texts.

_Up for a visit tonight, or did I wear you out too much_

He can imagine the eye-roll and the smirk when she reads his challenge. The bubbles of her response appear rather quickly.

_Is this some sort of attempt to appeal to my competitive nature?_

_Hey, if you need a break, I totally understand_

_Peter, damn it, if I end up saying yes I need you to know it's not because of your cocksure attitude_

_No, it would be because of my cock_

_I hate you_

_Is that a yes?_

_Honestly, I've got an early deposition tomorrow, and I still need to prep for it. That means an early morning. So if you're fine with a quickie?_

_Psh, I knew you needed a break. Our marathons a little too much for you?_

_I'll be over in twenty_

_Fuck you_

_Looking forward to it!_

Peter ignores Ned's look as he shovels the rest of his meal in his mouth. He drops the pot into the sink. "Don't do these dishes, I'll get them when I get back."

Ned crosses his arms. "Not if you come back looking as dazed as the last couple nights."

Peter scratches the back of his neck. "I'll remember. And...this thing, Ned. It's okay, yeah?"

Ned chuckles. "Honestly, man, it's nice to see you so full of energy. I just don't like that your new attitude is contingent on something that, as you say, could last a year or two weeks."

Peter shrugs. "I'll enjoy it while it does, then!"

Ned hums, and waves him away.

-0-0-0-

"I see the deposition went smoothly?" Betty asks her as Michelle settles into the chair across from her.

Michelle frowns at her. "Not especially," she says. It hadn't gone terribly. But it was nothing special. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh," Betty looks surprised, and then glances down at the menu. "You just look a little more...I don't know. Full of life? I know work's been draining."

Michelle hums, and picks up her own menu. This isn't their usual place for lunch, so she's not sure she wants to try anything adventurous today. Probably just a salad today. "Work's still a drag, but..."

Betty looks up when Michelle trails off. "What is it, MJ?" her old friend asks her, ever the inquisitive one.

Maybe Michelle shouldn't have said anything. Betty will want to know every little detail, and Michelle really can't give her many. "I've, uh, found myself a means of...release."

Betty narrows her eyes. "I thought we got all our drug experimentation out of the way in our undergrad."

Michelle laughs. "No, not that. Don't worry, I'm still keeping it to weekend drinks and occasionally lighting up with you."

Betty relaxes. "Good. I know your new work isn't your favorite, but there are better ways to—"

"I'm having mind-blowing, meaningless sex with a guy I met," Michelle interjects.

The waiter shows up at just that moment and coughs uncomfortably. "I can come back," he says hesitantly.

"No, I know what I want," Michelle responds easily, though even she has to admit her nonchalance is only to cover some embarrassment. "Betty?"

Mouth opening and shutting like a guppy, Betty doesn't really answer. So Michelle turns back to the waiter. "Yeah, maybe give us a couple minutes."

After the man has retreated, Betty leans forward. "Are you kidding me right now? Who is he?"

"Met him on some dating app," Michelle says with a wave of her hand. "He's _perfect_ Betty. Smart, witty, always takes care of me first."

"Good-looking?" Betty asks, and props her elbows on the table to rest her chin on her palms.

Michelle can't bite back her smile. "Fucking hot. Like...if he was a little taller, I'd mistake him for a Greek god."

"Shut up," Betty laughs. She looks at the menu for a little while, but she keeps sneaking glances at Michelle. "What's it like, then? I've had a one-night stand before. Can't imagine going back afterwards."

Michelle shrugs. "It's honestly been really easy. I was a bit nervous about texting him the second day, but I guess he had as good a time as me."

Betty giggles. "So how long has this been going on?"

"Oh, um..." she does the math quickly in her head, and is kind of blown away by the answer. "Three days?"

Betty's eyes widen. "Three days, and you're acting like this?"

"Three days and like ten orgasms," Michelle says with meaning. Unfortunately, the waiter has reappeared.

"Um."

Michelle turns to him. "House salad with your vinaigrette dressing, please."

"Right," he coughs and jots on his notepad.

"Reuben on rye," Betty says with a laugh. The waiter leaves without asking for drinks or sides. Michelle doesn't blame him.

"Okay, so...not dating, though?" Betty restarts the conversation.

"No, that's the best part! I couldn't even tell you how many siblings he has."

-0-0-0-

"I'm an only child," Peter tells her a couple of nights later. He's got his face buried in her neck, kissing, licking, sucking her skin. She smells so good. "Maybe that's why I'm such a—what did you call me—chatterbox? I never had to share the attentions of my aunt and uncle, so I learned to fill the silence."

Michelle laughs, lifting her head as much as she can to give him complete access to her neck. He finds he's partial to her collarbone. "Could be why the only time you shut up is when you're between my legs. Even that's not a guarantee."

He lifts his head to grin at her. "Is that you hinting at what you want tonight?"

She pauses. "Nah, I actually like to hear your voice, surprising enough."

"Aww," he says, and leans down to kiss her. Her hand palms him through his pants and starts working him the best she can at this angle. When he breaks the kiss, he's panting. "Fuck, Michelle, I want to be inside you so bad right now."

She moans. "That makes two of us, Tiger."

He kneels up to work at his pants. "Missed you the last couple days," he says as he squirms out of his clothes. Michelle does the same.

"Hey one of those days was your fault," she accuses him. "I had the handcuffs all ready and everything."

Peter freezes with his pants around his ankles. Handcuffs...of all the nights for Spider-Man to be needed. "You..."

"I'm kidding, dork," she says with a laugh. "Although I'll definitely log your reaction for future analysis. For clarification, who do you envision tied up when you hear handcuffs?"

He gulps, and finally gets free of his pants, careful to pull a condom out before tossing them aside. "Either of us. Both of us. At different times, of course."

Her smile drops, and she bites her lip. She's also out of the last of her clothes. "Yeah. Good."

He leans forward to capture her lips again. He does the biting this time, and she whimpers into his mouth. "Michelle, I'm gonna fuck you till you can't see straight, okay?"

She nods. "I hate that that turns me on so much. You dork."

He only grins and readies the condom. "You want to be on top again?" he asks.

She shakes her head and rolls onto her stomach. "Remember," she winks as she looks over her shoulder. "I don't want to see straight."

Peter groans and climbs on top of her, straddling her thighs. He spends a moment kneading her perfect ass, running his hands up her back in a light massage, leaning forward and kissing her shoulder blade. Michelle doesn't seem to mind him taking his time. He reaches between her legs and presses a finger in her entrance. She's wet. He pumps his finger inside her, slow and steady while he kisses all over her back, pulling her beautiful hair aside when necessary.

"Big talk aside," he whispers when he knows she’s ready for him. "How hard do you like it, Michelle?"

"Don't go easy on me, Parker," she says. "I'll let you know if it's too much."

So he removes his finger and coats the condom with as much of her wetness as he can. And then presses inside of her.

She's unbelievably tight in this position, and Peter groans at the feel of her as he sinks as deep as possible. He grabs her by the ass with both hands, and _goes_.

Peter isn't reckless, of course. He's aware of his strength, and he's had years to fine-tune exactly what he's capable of. And it makes it all the better as he applies that tuning to Michelle.

She's breathtaking, and he loves how verbal she is with how she's feeling. She's not necessarily _loud_ , but between her moans, gasps of pleasure, and frank dialogue, Peter finds _exactly_ what she wants. He leans forward, releasing her hip with one hand to splay out beside her and hold himself up and he thrusts softer and then harder into her.

"Fuck, _yes_ , Peter," she manages as she's pressed into her mattress over and over, and he knows he's finally found the right rhythm. She's slick around him, and the feel of her ripples through him with each thrust. He gets lost in her. It's just them for these precious minutes, and everything else fades away but for their bodies moving together.

After she comes the first time, Peter lifts her to her knees and kneels on this inside of her legs, spreading her wide. He resumes his frantic pace, and Michelle grabs the headboard with one hand, balancing on the mattress with the other. He's not sure if her first orgasm has even stopped rippling through her yet, based on her harried breathing. But that doesn't stop him from reaching around her to find her clit.

She lets out a cry, so Peter backs off. "Too much?" he asks, and he can feel the sweat on his forehead. He can also feel the pressure building inside of him even though he does _not_ want this to end any time soon.

She only shakes her head in response. "No, please, touch me again!"

Peter obeys and her cries are more muted this time and he rocks into her, over and over. The rhythm is too sweet. He slows down for his sake, and Michelle lowers her head back to the mattress. He continues teasing her with his finger while he rocks in and out.

He allows himself a moment to just _be_ , taking in the feel of her wetness around him, the slap of their skin together. He releases her hip to run a hand slowly up her back, tracing the ridges of her spine. He reaches into her hair, and gives a slight tug.

"Harder," she whispers.

He picks up his speed again, and tugs just a little harder.

"Little more," she instructs. He pistons into her, and feels his orgasm creeping up quickly. So he presses against her clit and tugs at her hair, and—

The sound she makes is euphoric. Peter will play it over and over in his mind. She reaches blindly behind her to grab at his thigh, and squeezes him while she comes. Her fingernails dig into his leg. He needs only pump into her for several more seconds before he follows after her.

He falls forward as he releases into the condom, and they both fall to the mattress as he gives a final few erratic thrusts. After he comes back to himself, his runs his right hand along her right arm, stretched out beside her. Past the elbow, his fingers dance down her forearm before they find her hand. He fits his fingers between hers, and they close together.

"That was really good for me," Peter whispers into her neck. She turns her head so she's facing him. "Was that okay for you?"

She leans in, gesturing for a kiss. He concedes quickly and easily. After pulling back, she smiles at him. "You may talk a lot, Peter. But you listen really well, too. Thank you. Although, I think I can still see straight. Maybe."

He smiles again, and kisses her briefly before pulling out of her and shifting to the side of her. He takes care of his condom, and tosses it into her waste bin.

He lays on his side to find her in much the same position, lying on her stomach, looking exhausted. He knows it's been a long week, and he certainly added to the fatigue she's feeling. He runs his nails up and down her back, a light scratch. She hums and closes her eyes, pleased.

"You...you mentioned an aunt and uncle," she says tiredly. "Were you raised by them?"

Peter nods, focusing on her soft skin under his fingertips. "My parents died when I was five," he answers her unasked question.

Her eyes flicker open. "I'm sorry."

He gives her half-smile. "Thank you. It's been so long, the pain of losing them isn't even as strong as the pain of not remembering. And neither is too bad most of the time."

She nods. "I was a little older when I lost my mom," she says. "But I know what you mean."

"Do you have siblings?" Peter asks. Part of him wonders if this is dangerous. Getting to know her better. But that feels silly. It's only natural, as with any acquaintance or friend, to get to know people better with time. Besides, he's intrigued by her. Someone so brilliant and beautiful—of course he'd want to know her better.

"Younger brother," she tells him, and she sounds sleepy again, her voice a little gravelly. "'Bout to graduate from ESU. Mechanical Engineering."

Peter lets out a chuckle. "My own undergrad," he says.

Michelle hums softly. Her eyes close again. "I'll let myself out tonight," he tells her, and makes to move off the bed.

"No..that's okay, I can—" but he cuts her off with a kiss to her lips.

"I'll text you later."

"Not if I text you first." Her words are slurred with sleep and it's adorable.

Peter rolls off her bed and dresses quickly. He pulls the blankets up and covers her, with a quick kiss to her forehead. She's not quite asleep, but she might as well be for how dead to the world she is.

Peter stops at her door on his way out to glance back at her. He smiles before leaving.


	3. Fools Rush In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt like an appropriate chapter for Valentine's Day. Please enjoy Two Idiots:

"Is that Spidey underwear?"

"Um. Yes."

"How is it you _keep_ surprising me with how big a dork you are?"

“You got a problem with Spidey?"

"Of course not. He's amazing."

"Damn right, he is."

"Doesn't mean a grown-ass man should be wearing his image on his underwear."

"Fine, I guess I'll take them off then."

-0-0-0-

She lies up against Peter. Half-on, half-off of him, really. She has a leg thrown over his hip and between his legs. She draws shapes on his chest while his free hand ghosts up and down her arm.

Cuddling with Peter is...new. It makes sense, of course. For how many times he sticks around for a second round, it's only natural that they would stay close until they'd each caught their breaths and his dick was ready to go again.

Though. She knows they lay here talking longer than he needs. He's a freak. He's also fun to talk to.

"Wait, so you're telling me you've seen _Star Wars_ a hundred times, but you haven't bothered to watch _Casablanca_ or _Lawrence of Arabia_ _once_?"

"Don't judge me like that," he responds with narrowed eyes. His mouth quirks though, giving away how much he enjoys it. "I can respect old movies and how they changed the game without liking to watch them."

"You say that like _Star Wars_ isn't decades old, too," she counters. "Maybe you just haven't given them a fair shake."

Peter bobs his head back and forth as he considers. Of all of his traits—excluding the countless ones he exhibits in the bedroom—Peter's ability to listen and self-reflect is perhaps her favorite. He's a confident guy, and that means he doesn't mind being wrong about things. And even when he doesn't change his mind, the introspection gives them something interesting to talk about. Even Michelle has begrudgingly learned a thing or two from him in their conversations. "You know, I _will_ say it's been nearly a decade since I've even tried to watch a classic that wasn't sci-fi or Hitchcock. And I'm definitely not the same as when I was at fifteen years old."

Michelle props herself up on her elbow. Peter's eyes dart down to her now-exposed breasts. She loves the look in his eyes when he observes her. Heavy and hungry. "That's it, you need to watch Casablanca."

He laughs, and looks back to her eyes. "What? Now?"

She hadn't meant now. But the idea isn't unappealing. So she shrugs. "If you want."

She wasn't expecting her nights with Peter to find them sitting up in her bed, against the headboard, laptop open in their laps. She hadn't expected his arm casually around her back, or the easy conversation and commentary on the movie. She wasn't expecting him to leave later without ever going for another round—and certainly not expecting her not to be disappointed by that.

But, no rules were being broken. So it wasn't going exactly as expected. That's okay. The expectations weren't as good as this anyway.

-0-0-0-

"Ned asked me to ask you about Michelle," May says at dinner on Sunday evening. He'd had to tell Michelle 'no' for this dinner, and now May is dragging her into it anyway.

"Of course he would," Peter grumbles. He doubts Ned would have given May any details, but this is not an ideal situation he has put Peter in. "Michelle's just someone I'm kind of seeing," he says cagily.

May's eyebrows raise above her thin-framed glasses. She stabs at her plate of lasagna, and pops a bite in her mouth. "Kind of?"

Peter will _not_ be giving May details of this. "It's just not serious, that's all. I don't know why Ned even brought it up."

"Because he's your best friend and he likes to mess with you?" May offers, and it makes Peter laugh. His guard drops a little. May's cool. He's still not going to give her details though. "Or maybe because he, like me, has seen you be in a remarkably good mood over the last few weeks."

Few weeks. Is that really all it had been? It feels stupid to say, but Michelle has fit so comfortably into his life, it feels like he's known her for much, much longer than that.

"She's really cool and pretty," Peter tells her. "Smart lawyer, but not the lawyer type."

"What law does she practice?" May asks.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. But more surprisingly, he finds himself disappointed that he doesn't know. "But I know it's not what she wants to do long-term."

"Which is?" May prods, and peers at Peter over her glass of wine while she swirls it in her fingers.

Peter chuckles. "Well, I don't know the details of her plan to get there, but ultimately she wants to solve the issues of legislation and jurisdiction that have been targeting minorities in the city for decades. Some of the things this country and state have done over the years is _wild_ , May. I don't remember it well enough, but you'll have to ask her som—"

He cuts himself off, because Michelle and May would _not_ be meeting. He's not sure it's against any of their rules. But it feels like it is? Somehow?

Even though, now that the thought has entered his mind, Peter has to admit he'd really like May and Michelle to meet. He can't quite pin down why, except that they are both awesome people. Of course they'd benefit from each other's company.

But again. Not going to happen. Should they have included a Rule Four about these things? Because it really feels like it should be against a rule.

"When _do_ I get to meet her?" May asks him.

"If it turns serious," Peter answers, and his tone makes it clear that's the end of the Michelle talk. Because it won't turn serious. What else is there to talk about?

-0-0-0-

Michelle groans when she sees his text.

_Been thinking about how much I want to taste you all day. You free tonight?_

_Sorry Parker. My period started._

_Oh haha, so you're probably off the menu then._

_How are you feeling? Can I bring you anything?_

Michelle frowns. She's not quite sure of his intention. Is he just being a nice guy, or is he still after hooking up tonight? Which...in a vacuum would be something she'd entertain, especially as they get more and more comfortable with each other. But she doesn't know how she feels about him being the one to propose it. Which she's not even sure if he is.

Only to sate her curiosity, she messages in the affirmative.

_Sure. Thanks._

He tells her he'll be there in twenty, which she knows means he'll be there in thirty to forty. Peter doesn't have many faults. Punctuality is a severe one, though.

He arrives in twenty Peter Standard minutes—or thirty-seven actual minutes—with a dark chocolate bar and a grin.

Michelle lets him in, and snatches the chocolate from his hand. "Dark chocolate is my favorite!"

"I know," he tells her, and they walk into her living room and plop on her couch. "You told me last week after the best blow job of my life."

Michelle snorts. "I _told_ you it wasn't too bad when you were surprised I swallowed, but that it's no dark chocolate."

"I inferred, then," he says with a grin. He sits at the opposite end of the couch from her, and both of them fold a leg up to make turning towards each other easier. "How are you doing?"

Michelle shrugs as she tears open the chocolate. She’s not sure if he’s asking in general or about her period. But he seems the type not to squirm over what she’s never understood why some guys squirm over. "Not bad this month." She breaks off some chocolate and pops it in her mouth. "Better now, thanks."

Peter looks pleased. But not the pleased look she knows well, like after he brings her to a quick and satisfying orgasm, and he's pleased with _himself,_ the cocky little shit. No, he's just pleased she feels a measure of comfort.

"I can swing by again tomorrow if you want anything else," he says, and starts to get to his feet. And Michelle supposes that's the answer to her question. He'd really just come by for her.

"Do you need to go?" she asks before she can stop herself. He freezes, and looks at her. "I just mean...we still have some movies you need to watch."

Peter chuckles and settles back onto the couch. Closer to her this time. "That we do. So what comes after _Casablanca_?"

She smiles, and pulls out her phone. "We could watch _Gone With The Wind_ , but only if you're okay with me detailing exactly why it's so problematic throughout the movie."

Peter looks at her with a tilt of his head. "Of course I'm okay with that. So, why watch it at all?"

If Michelle didn't know Peter well by now, she might find his question patronizing. But she knows he is simply curious by nature, and this was an opportunity for him to learn, which he always takes. She shrugs. "Some people will choose to avoid old and current material as a means of protesting their issues. I think that's perfectly valid, and I do the same in many cases. I _also_ think it's important to be able to see where we've been as a society, both what the movie portrays from a hundred and sixty years ago _and_ how it was portrayed eighty years ago. It helps me identify problems still going on today, in and out of film."

Peter nods with a hum. "Let's have at it, then."

She throws the movie on her TV and sidles up next to Peter. He wraps an arm around her. She catches herself sighing at the comfort of him being here. She hadn't even considered inviting him over for a movie, but now that he's here, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

She offers him some dark chocolate, which he takes. "Can't believe you prefer this over milk chocolate."

"Menace," she says, and pulls the chocolate back away from him.

He chuckles as he chews the bite he managed to take. "You have no idea."

It's been years and years since she's seen the movie, and it actually sparks some good dialogue with Peter. She likes talking to him. He's clearly usually the smartest guy in the room, but either he doesn't know it, or he doesn't care that others do. It's a breath of fresh air after working with lawyers all day.

Now that she thinks about it, she realizes just how much she enjoys his company to just about anyone else she interacts with. They can talk through a movie or talk dirty. He can tell her about his uncle passing when he was in high school, or they can make stupid jokes and laugh about nothing. And it's all easy. Comfortable. Unlike the cramps she's feeling.

Partway through the film, she tries to shift to get more comfortable, but her body doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Peter must take notice, and he slips a hand onto her stomach. "Can I?" he asks, and starts to move his hand, massaging her. The heat and pressure of his hand help some. She lifts her shirt and she presses her own hand on top of his to give him some direction.

"Thanks."

"Of course," he says. "Just tell me how I can help?"

She nods, and leans her head on his shoulder.

An hour later, they decide to stop watching the movie. It's hella' long, and she's got work in the morning. They can pick it up again some other time. Besides, she feels much more comfortable now, and she’s ready to get to bed.

They kiss before getting up off the couch and sending Peter on his way.

It's not until she's about to fall asleep that Michelle even questions whether that's weird or not.

-0-0-0-

Peter pumps into her with abandon. He's lined up behind her, both on their sides, and he reaches around her to hold her breast, desperate for something to ground him as he chases elation. Turns out grabbing her breast isn't the thing that does that.

Peter can't quite fathom how this position had made their list. Their list, of course, being positions they'd had sex in with other partners that hadn't been good. So they decided to try them together, and figure out once and for all if it was the position or the partner that had made them bad experiences.

To date, the answer was always the partner.

Michelle had never had a satisfying sixty-nine with a guy. In her experience, both parties were never engaged fully at the same time. When they tried it together, her experience held true. Peter had been so effective, that she hadn't given him proper attention until she'd come already. The difference is that Peter didn't mind that one bit. He loved the challenge of getting her off a second time while she finally put her full focus on him.

Peter had never had good shower sex. Penetrative, to be clear. But Michelle had bought some great lube to combat the water of the shower, and the two of them had such a good time, they stayed in the shower until her hot water ran out.

And now they are on their sides, and he takes her from behind. Peter was baffled when Michelle told him she didn't like this one, and he's determined to make it good. The sounds of her panting breaths tell him he's on the right track.

He releases her breast and brings his hand down and tucks it under her thigh. He lifts her leg up, stretching her out. "Oh," she calls out. "Oh, yes Peter, _fuck_."

"There it is," he chuckles, and bites into her shoulder lightly while sliding in and out of her not-so-lightly. "I knew we'd find it."

"I hate and love that you were right," Michelle manages to tell him even as her body tightens and he can feel her getting close.

"I could touch you," he grunts, "but I'd really rather watch you finish yourself off right now."

"Don't you dare stop," she growls out, causing Peter to laugh.

"I won't, I won't. I just want to see you touch yourself while I fuck you."

She nods and brings her hand between her legs. He watches her rub herself from over her shoulder, and it's so hot he's instantly on the edge, and comes in his condom.

His thrusts stagger, but Michelle's hand continues moving until she lets out a low and breathy moan and clenches around him, squeezing him dry.

He lets her leg drop back down, and brings his hand up to cup her breast again and pull her tightly to his chest. Not in an attempt to stimulate any more, but just to hold her close. He wants to feel as much of her as he can as the pleasure finishes pulsing through him.

"Can we take that one off the list then?" Peter asks her with a grin.

"Yeah," she chuckles before turning around to face him. He slips out of her and has to release her, but he's met with her beautiful, smiling face, so he figures that's a step up anyway. They press soft kisses to each other's lips for a moment before she rolls out of bed. "I've got to pee," she tells him, and motions to his penis. "Can I toss that for you on my way?"

Peter pulls off the condom and ties it off before handing it to her. "Be right back," she says, implying she wants him to stay. Good. He wants to stay, too. He's not sure if they're done for the evening or not, but he likes hanging out with her. He also likes watching her go, hips swinging and the most beautiful ass he's ever seen.

Peter shifts on the bed and sighs happily.

Too happily, maybe.

How long has it been? Two, almost three months?

Ned asked him what he'd do when it was over. Peter hadn't answered. He's afraid to. He's afraid to think too hard about the question, and definitely afraid of whatever answer he might find.

Michelle walks back into her room, and his heart rate quickens. Fuck, but she's beautiful. Goddess-like, really. If Peter were commissioned to make a statue of a goddess, and he had the talent to do so, he'd ask her to model, for sure.

She quirks an eyebrow at his gaze and struts towards him. She climbs onto the bed, sexy and suggestive, directly over him. She wets her lips, and dips her hips to drag along his. She leans down, lips getting closer and closer…before plopping to his side with a chuckle.

"Rude," he grins at her, and tries to tell his body to redirect its bloodflow. It's not go-time yet.

"You literally came like five minutes ago, Parker," she laughs out before sitting up. She brings her legs up and over his lap, bent high at the knee. Peter runs a hand up and down her calf. "I think you can survive taking a little break here."

He smiles softly at her. Of course he can. "You mentioned you're going to your dad's Sunday?" he asks.

She nods. "First Sunday of every month," she says. "We see each other much more often than that, of course. But it's nice to have a static dinner date with him and Mike."

Peter hums. He and May spend _most_ Sundays together. But maybe he'll suggest something like that. Just for the security. Though May would probably just laugh at the idea of them planning anything. If life had proven anything, it's that the best laid plans just led to Spider-Man having to bail.

"He's graduating next month, right?" Peter asks.

Michelle nods. "Yeah, he's pretty nervous about it."

"If he ends up applying to that job at SI, let me know. It's been a few years, but I've still got some friends over there. I could put in a good word."

Michelle snorts at him, and drops back to the bed beside him. Her legs are still crossed over his waist, though, so he keeps his soft massage of her calf going. "You'd just recommend him like that? Without even meeting him?"

"Okay," Peter says without thinking much. "I'll meet him first."

Michelle stills, and Peter wonders if he broke a Rule.

But no. He didn't.

The way Michelle worries her bottom lip, though, makes Peter wonder if she's thinking the same thing.

"Only if that wouldn't be weird for you," he adds quickly. "I mean, you don't have to introduce me as your booty call," he tries to joke to ease the tension that the conversation has added.

"Right," Michelle smiles, though it's not her usual smile. "No, I think...I think that's amazing you'd want to help. Thanks Peter. Maybe I'll chat with him Sunday and see what he thinks?"

"Yeah, sure." Peter says. He shivers, and only now realizes the night has brought a slight chill. Michelle seems to think it at the same time, and reaches down the bed to pull the blankets over both of them.

In an attempt to move past whatever has made the air thick around them, Peter goes to kiss her and moves a hand between her legs.

She moans, and Peter relaxes. Moans, he knows. The writhing and the whispering of his name and ' _fuck_ ' he's comfortable with. The tension between them and the unnaturally harsh thump of his heart? Miss him with that.

Which is why it really is stupid of him to fall asleep with her after he's gotten her off again.

-0-0-0-

The first thought Michelle has when she wakes is how grateful she is that she isn't working this particular Saturday.

The second thought is that she rather likes Peter's warm body under hers in the morning.

And the third is a minor freak-out that he spent the night.

She runs through their Rules in her head.

Rule One: They can say no whenever they don't feel up to it—okay, definitely not breaking this Rule. They'd been rather successful, if she does say so herself. They're always respectful of each others' time. It helps that they can say yes, and _want_ to say yes, most of the time. But still. She feels perfectly safe saying no with Peter. And that also has nothing to do with waking up with him.

Rule Two: it's exclusive. Okay, clearly waking up with Peter didn't break this rule, which she'd been a little hesitant about. In hindsight it was a great rule, of course. She hasn't once, in the last two months and three weeks, wanted anyone else anyways. And it was nice knowing she was a priority for Peter, too.

Rule Three: no feelings. No complications.

 _Technically_ no. Not an issue. Spending the night didn't inherently mean feelings or complications. Though she pauses for the same reason she paused last night when he offered to meet her brother and help him out. 'Complications' was a word that could be interpreted so many ways. And 'feelings'? Also...a lot of interpretations.

She doesn't get very far in asking the pressing questions though, as Peter starts to shift and awaken. To be fair, she doubts she would have let herself ask the questions anyway. Pandora's Box and all that. Instead, she debates if she should pretend to be asleep.

"Hey," Peter whispers, ruining any chance she has of that. He looks nervously at her with sleep-heavy eyes. Still, he reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Michelle’s stomach flips at the tender gesture. "Sorry...I, uh, didn't mean to fall asleep last night." He frowns, brow furrowed. "Can't believe I didn't wake up."

Michelle understands his confusion. To sleep next to another body for the first time in... years? And not be jostled awake by him? She shakes her head. "It's fine. Not like I have work this morning anyway."

She turns in her bed, rolling away from him in a vain attempt to calm her mind. The sun shines through the blinds of her window, giving her room a warm glow. Aside from tension wrapping her heart, it really is a nice morning. "Do you, um, want breakfast before you go?" she asks. "I can whip up some pancakes or something?"

She turns back to him to see him swallow. His gaze makes the tension tighten around her heart. "Sure, yeah. That sounds nice."

She rolls out of bed and pulls on her underwear and shirt. Well, _his_ shirt. He just stares at her, face unreadable. But she can't exactly take his shirt off and replace it with hers now, can she?

He sits up, and the sheets pool at his waist. She's spent more time with this man naked than clothed, and yet seeing him with sleep-mussed hair, in _her_ bed, in the morning...it does something else to her. She clears her throat and turns from the room before the wetness between her legs becomes too much.

"I'll get it started. Bathroom's right there if you need it."

She gets eggs and flour and sugar and milk, notices she's got some blueberries, and pulls them out too. And while she mixes, she listens to Peter enter her bathroom. When he comes out a minute later and walks into her kitchen, he's predictably without a shirt. She's wearing his, after all. She lets her eyes roam his body. She likes the fit of his jeans when his shirt isn't there to mask it.

"Wanna do the eggs?" she asks him.

"Hmm?" he asks, and Michelle finally tears her eyes from his chest long enough to see he's giving her the same hungry gaze she’s been giving him. He looks up from searching her legs with a guilty smile on his face.

The humor of the situation breaks the unease in the air, and Michelle smirks at him. "Down boy, there will be time for that later."

"Oh good," Peter laughs out. "You mentioned eggs?"

She gets out two frying pans. And holds one up for him. "Do you want to make some?"

"Sure thing," he steps into her kitchen, and is immediately at home there. Opening cupboards and drawers for a bowl and whisk. They dance around each other, each making half of the meal. She could take one of her kitchen knives and cut the air, it's so thick with... _something_. The only times they can keep their eyes off of each other seems to be when they catch the other looking, and look away for a brief moment.

At one point, she reaches past him for some vanilla from her spice drawer. He pinches her butt as she does so. Then he unnecessarily shifts behind her when she starts whisking her mix together, and runs his hands down her arms until he's matching her movements.

"Is this your best impersonation of _Ghost_?" she asks, and hates that's she breathless from the feel of him pressed to her back.

"Demi Moore wishes she had these legs," he whispers and places one of his hands on her hip, and runs it down the bare skin of her leg. And then back up the inside of her thigh. She stops mixing the pancakes.

"Don't want to eat first?" she manages to say.

"Not unless it's you," he says, and presses his finger to her clit through her underwear. Her legs weaken, and she feels herself soak her panties while Peter moves his fingers over her. She has to drop the whisk in the bowl and hold herself steady on the table.

"Fuck. Fu—fuck, Peter," She rolls her hips, trying to generate more friction. His other hand moves under her—his—shirt, and he covers her breast. His thumb dances over her nipple, and he rubs against her backside. She can feel him hard through his jeans. He's just teasing her with his finger, though. The material of her underwear rubs so good, but she needs more. "Grab...get a condom."

"Don't have any on me," he stammers into her neck where he places wet, sloppy kisses. "And there's no way I'm going back to your room with you looking like this here."

Instead, he finally pushes the fabric aside and pushes two fingers inside of her.

Breakfast is forgotten until minutes later when she starts picking up the pieces of her soul and standing completely upright at last. He had completely shattered her with just a couple fingers. She turns around to find Peter licking them off. "Okay, I think I'm ready for breakfast now," he says with a wink. She can't help but laugh, and lean forward to kiss him. He tastes like her. He's got an embarrassed look on his face when she pulls back. "Can't believe I came in my pants like a horny teenager, though."

She looks down to see, sure enough, he's got a wet spot next to the bulge of his cock. "It's hot," she says honestly. He'd been rubbing against her, sure, but most of him getting off had come from getting _her_ off. And Michelle really, _really_ likes the thought of that. "I've got some sweats if you want to change?"

"Yeah, thanks," he says, and backs away from her.

"Top left drawer," she calls after him, and gathers herself after he retreats down the hall. Deep breaths. Just awesome, awesome sex. Never mind the warmth she feels about him waking in her bed. Making food with him. Wearing his clothes.

When he returns, she's got the first couple of pancakes on the pan, and he sneaks up behind her again.

"No!" she chastises him playfully, batting at the hand that attempts to sneak under her shirt.

He only laughs and steps to the side, the little shit. He beats the eggs, and puts another frying pan on the stove. And this too, cooking their breakfast together, side by side, it does things to her. Things she doesn't want. She _can't_ want. Not right now. And not with someone who explicitly doesn't want it either.

Peter puts the blueberries in the pancakes as she tends them, and her heart beats hard when he leans up against her and reaches forward to drop them in.

By the time they've finally made the pancakes and the eggs, and she's poured them both some juice, Michelle's running on autopilot. They banter their usual banter. Suggestive jokes. Blatant compliments. But Michelle knows she won't be able to remember a single word said. Not with the effort she's putting into not thinking certain thoughts. Not feeling certain feelings.

It's not until his phone buzzes as they finish eating, and she sees his face fall and she knows he has to go, that the strange dream state she's been in snaps. She knows that look. He's had to bounce at a moment's notice a few times. She assumes it's something urgent with his research, but he never elaborates. Why would he? They don't owe each other anything.

"Shit, Michelle, I have to—"

"That's okay," she interjects with a jerky hand-wave.

He looks at their empty plates. "I can help—"

"I've got it, Peter. Don't worry about it."

He smiles, roguish. Michelle's stomach flips again. "I'll make it up to you."

She snorts, trying to distill all that she's feeling into amusement. It doesn't work.

"Yeah, yeah."

They both stand, and he freezes. "I...um..." he motions to her shirt. Oh right, _his_ shirt.

She pulls it over her head and hands it over. She feels bare in only her ruined underwear. But the heat in his eyes as he watches her makes her feel powerful.

"Thanks Michelle," he whispers, and takes the shirt.

And it feels wrong, for some reason. Her name. She's considered it several times over the last few months, but she's never felt so compelled as right now.

"Call me MJ," she says, and swallows. "My friends...I want you to call me MJ."

His breath catches. And his mouth moves wordlessly for a moment before, "Okay, MJ."

And _fuck_. She almost says 'oh no' aloud when the warmth of hearing her nickname in his voice sweeps through her. And there’re feelings and it's complicated and she's gone and broken all of Rule Three.

His stare is heated, but not with the passion of lust. And it's directed only into her eyes. "Oh..." he whispers out. "Um...right. Gotta go."

He steps backwards, stumbling a bit as he pulls on his shirt. He almost races to the front door, so hurried he looks. Michelle would see him out, but she's basically naked. He stops briefly at the door and looks back at her. "Bye MJ."

And then he's gone, and it feels like a part of her went with him.

She sinks back into her chair and rests her head in her hands.

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaand, they've caught feelings, the dummies. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Enter Spidey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I've been really busy lately and haven't been able to write much. But that's why I got a chapter or two ahead, so I could still post even during the writing droughts. Hope you enjoy!

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete."

"Mich—MJ?"

"Yeah, do you not have my number saved or som—is that wind I hear?"

"Yeah...uh, out for a run. You don't think I keep my physique up by sitting on the couch, do you?"

"Shut up, dork. I was just calling to let you know you left your pants here. And I want my sweats back."

"This is you calling to say you want cock."

"God I hate you."

"No you don't. But I can't make it tonight."

"And I can't make it tomorrow."

"Monday?"

"Monday."

-0-0-0-

Monday.

She spent Saturday morning in denial, of course. After he left her home that morning, she took a scalding hot shower. She tried to wash his scent from her hair only to realize it wasn't on her body, but in her mind. Phantom thoughts of Peter triggering some strange chemicals in her brain that made her _think_ she was smelling him.

That's all it was. Chemicals. Chemicals generated by sex and laughter. So the butterflies in her stomach, the way her whole body shivered at the thought of him? Just science and biology.

She told herself this while she did the dishes, and tried not to think of how comfortable he had been in her kitchen. How comfortable she was with sharing it with him.

It wasn't until she found his pants balled up on the floor of her bedroom that she sat on her bed and admitted it to herself.

She had fallen hard for Peter. She'd broken their rule, and now she needed to decide what she was going to do about it. He had been decidedly against the idea of an actual relationship. But then, so had she. Was it possible his own feelings had morphed like hers? She knew she needed to find out.

But the tightrope she had to walk was high in a windy sky, and Michelle sure as hell didn't want to fall. If she simply confessed and he didn't feel the same way, it was over. That was it. Gone would be the best sex of her life, and gone would be Peter. And at this point, the latter was a much bigger deal than the former.

She called him, then, wondering if he could come back over that night. She still wasn't sure exactly what she would say or how she would find out, but she needed to try as soon as possible. She hadn't felt things like this in years, and it's not entirely pleasant.

But there is pleasantness. It's wonderful and thrilling and terrifying and frankly life-changing to feel this way.

But they couldn't meet until Monday, and so she'd dealt with the furious war in her heart for the weekend. Her brother Mike had laughed at her distraction during dinner, and at some point, she'd mindlessly told him she had a friend who might be able to put in a good word at SI, so now she's _also_ got to deal with introducing Peter to Mike, and _none of this is ideal_.

It's kind of a relief when Peter doesn't say much upon arriving Monday night, and they simply tear each other’s clothes off in the entryway and he fucks her bent over the sofa arm in the adjacent living room. She certainly needed the release after her weekend.

"You sure were eager tonight," Michelle says as they each put their underwear back on.

Peter chuckles. "I was going to say the same about you. No complaints, of course. It was a long weekend without you."

Her heart thuds in her chest while she tells herself not to read too much into his words. He's been saying shit like that from the beginning.

They don't clothe further, and cuddle up on the couch together. Probably for warmth because of their state of undress. Maybe because they are both very physical people, and the contact is stimulating and nice. But _possibly_ because he, like she, just likes being close. And maybe he feels some of these same things she does.

He wraps an arm around her and she lifts her legs over his thigh to slot between his legs. He runs his free hand over her thigh, down to her knee, and the feelings just keep coming, damn it.

"I've gotten to know you pretty well over the past couple months, Peter," she starts. He turns his head to face her with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess you have."

She bites her lip, and prays her next words are subtle enough. "All these months, I've never figured out why you're doing this with me." His face falls a little, and Michelle is quick to explain. "I just mean...the way you talk about your aunt and uncle before he passed. The close relationship you obviously have with Ned. I wouldn't have pegged you for a no strings attached kind of guy."

He looks away from her. His smile hadn't come back. She'd half-expected some cocky remark about how he couldn't deprive the good people of New York of himself by getting tied down. He wouldn't have been serious saying something like that, and she wouldn't have believed him, but it's something he might say. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and lets it out shakily.

"I...uh...I didn't used to be that way. I dreamed about getting married when I was eleven years old," he smiles sadly, but fondly, at the recollection. "The idea of loving someone so deeply that my world centered around them. The idea of having kids with someone and raising them to be good and kind people. The idea of giving and receiving an unconditional support because I've grown to trust someone so completely, and they me. Someone to have and to hold, in sickness and in health."

Michelle can't breathe, listening to him speak. As someone rather hardened against love herself, it is jarring to hear someone speak so romantically about it. Particularly when the person speaking is someone she's softened to.

"What happened?" she asks.

"I found it," he says simply, and then swallows. And Michelle feels an illogical anger at the person who broke his heart and took his innocent view of love. His hand finally stills on her leg, and he balls it into a fist. "Her name was Gwen. I was going to marry her. Bought the ring and everything. And...she was killed. Almost five years ago, now."

Michelle's heart shatters for him. Like the day he'd told her about his uncle Ben, or about his parents. And she wonders how someone so good and kind could come from such pain and misfortune. "Oh god, Peter," she whispers and hugs him tight. His hands wrap around her, and he clutches her to him. "I am so, so sorry."

"Thank you," he says into her shoulder. He pulls her back from the hug to look at her earnestly. "I've had amazing support from Ned and May, and I've gotten help elsewhere. It still hurts sometimes, obviously. But I'm generally good. And love?" he asks to the ether, looking past her shoulder now to the middle distance. "It's not that I didn't believe in it anymore. It's just...I hadn't been able to feel it like that since. I didn't think I ever would again."

His eyes snap back to hers. And his lips tremble. With feeling, with uncertainty of what to say next, Michelle isn't sure. After what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat and turns his head. "Which is why...I was so on board with our arrangement."

Somehow, caught up in her pain for Peter, she's still able to feel more with those words. It feels like there's lead in her stomach, and she leans back away from him, further out of their embrace.

But she can't extract herself completely. The idea of coming clean to him _now_ is almost unthinkable. That would mean it's all over. He can't feel the same way. He said it himself. But she's not strong like him. Peter being torn from her life is an unapproachable concept. At least right now.

-0-0-0-

"What about you?" Peter asks. Michelle looks lost in thought. Which he understands. He just dropped quite the emotional bombshell on someone who, while he happily calls her his friend now, started as nothing more than good, easy sex.

"Me? What?" she asks, focusing on him.

He shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Is it just as you said from the beginning? You want to focus on your career for now?"

He needs his answer before he can tell her he was wrong. Wrong about how he'd never feel that way again. Wrong, and certain he was wrong since he woke up in her bed and watched her put on his shirt. Wrong since he made and ate breakfast with her and felt things he hadn't felt since Gwen. That he wanted that experience every morning with her. That he wanted his life to revolve around making MJ happy.

He's not so innocent as his eleven-year-old self, of course. He understands his life couldn't be all about MJ. There's still himself, Ned and May, and society at large that should divide his attention—all of that _before_ factoring in his responsibility as Spider-Man. But he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Michelle Jones has a piece of his heart on permanent loan now, and he needs to know what chance he has of stealing a piece of hers back to replace it.

"Um...yeah. Yes. I suppose there’s more to it. I have some misgivings about long-term relationships as well," she answers, and Peter tries not to let it dash his hopes too much. "Mostly because I had a relationship that slowly but surely started changing me. And after a year with Harry, I realized I didn't like who I'd become. My goals had changed, my focus was all wrong, and I hated myself for letting someone change me like that."

Peter nods sadly. Her reasons for avoiding love had been part of the reason he was so drawn to it. He saw no flaw in her reasoning and experience, of course. Though Peter would gladly change for MJ. He'd learn to me more punctual. He'd learn all about her law so he could help her when work got too stressful. Hell, he'd already started watching—and even enjoying—classic films because of her.

But that's not what she's talking about. He knows there would be things he'd never forgive himself for changing. Could she convince him to stop being Spider-Man? Would he ever forgive himself, her, or Love if she could? While he doesn’t think MJ would ever do that, Peter can understand her misgivings about loving someone who _could_ wield that power.

"So, you're just sworn off of true love then?" he asks.

Michelle hesitates. Her eyes stare back at him, and he sees such indecision and fear in them. "No," she says at last, and Peter exhales his relief. "No, I can think of a 'right time, right place, right person' situation all lining up."

Peter nods. He knows he didn't come at the right time. And given their origins, he's not sure he could qualify as the right place. But...he truly believes he could be the right person. When he's with her, everything just fits like a puzzle. A masterpiece that had been splintered, and they put it back together, piece by piece, without ever knowing what they'd been doing.

And Peter knows he's got to find a way to restructure what they have so it's the right time and place for Michelle.

-0-0-0-

“You’re in denial,” Betty tells her at lunch the next day.

“No,” Michelle snaps back. She’s been on edge since her conversation with Peter. There’s a pit in her stomach and no amount of deep breaths and meditation can make it go away. “I _was_ in denial. Now I know I have feelings for Peter, and I simply want to get rid of them.”

Betty frowns. “So you’re going to end things?”

The pit swirls and grows.

“No.”

Betty, who had started off looking so haughty when Michelle had shared the weekend happenings with, now looks only sympathetic. “MJ, hun, you’re not going to get over Peter if you’re fucking him daily, and twice on the weekends.”

Before Michelle can respond, their waiter interrupts. “Oh…it’s you two again.”

Michelle frowns at the man. “Do you have the worst timing in history or something, Paul?”

He’s ruffled by her accusation. This must be the fourth or fifth time he’s walked in on an inappropriate part of their conversation over the last couple months. At this point, all three of them know what to expect from their lunches. He’ll pretend to be uncomfortable, and they’ll leave a generous tip. “It could have more to do with your topics of conversation every time you come here.”

Betty gives an apologetic look. “You’re not wrong. Michelle fell in love with a guy she didn’t mean to.”

“Betty!” Michelle whispers.

“What? Maybe we need another perspective?”

Michelle thinks she'll stop coming to these weekly lunches with her best friend, and stick to eating on the roof of her building. Now that the weather's turned it's been really nice up there anyway. And she won't have to deal with Betty or Paul's judgment.

But Paul looks less uncomfortable now than any of the previous times he’s intruded on their conversation. If anything, he looks happy. Charmed. “Oh, you finally admit that you love him?”

“Damn it, Paul. Just give me the soup of the day.”

Betty places her order, and Paul scurries away with a bounce to his step. “I’m with Paul, by the way,” Betty says. “I think this is cause for happiness, not fear. Just tell him how you feel.”

“I can’t lose him, Betty.”

But her friend only shakes her head. “I’m a little lost here. You want to fall out of love with him…but keep him? The sex is that good?”

And the question startles Michelle because she hadn’t even thought of her reasonings. “It’s not about that anymore,” she says honestly. “I can’t lose Peter from my life.”

But Betty only frowns deeper. “MJ…that’s the love talking. If you lose that, then you won’t care about keeping him anymore. This is the denial I’m talking about.”

But she only shakes her head and doubles down. “I can lose the romantic feelings and still care about him as my friend Betty. So…I’ll just make it about the sex again. I’ll ask him to fuck me until I forget there’s anything else to him.”

“Oh, come on!”

Michelle turns to their waiter, bearing waters for them. “Damn it, Paul!”

-0-0-0-

Peter drags his fork along his plate. Spaghetti noodles flop back and forth.

“Peter.”

“Hmm?” he asks looking up from his meal to May.

“I know I’m not the best cook, but I can make spaghetti. And you haven’t touched yours. What’s up?”

Peter gives her a half-smile. “I’m in love with MJ,” he tells her simply.

May’s eyes brighten, but her smile falls when she takes in Peter’s sunken shoulders. “I assume MJ is Michelle?”

“Oh,” Peter laughs. “Yeah, sorry. She asked me to call her that last week. It was kind of the final nail in the coffin, to be honest. I’d just spent an amazing…erm, day with her. And the whole time, I kept thinking _this is what it feels like_. How I used to feel with Gwen, you know? I mean, it’s not the same exactly, ‘cause Michelle is so very different than Gwen. But…I _felt_ it again. Like I’d give anything to be with her all the time.”

May looks at him, her eyes wet and smile wide. “Oh, Peter, I’m so happy for you.”

Peter snorts. “I just need to find a way for her to feel the same way.”

“I’m sure she does, Peter. If she’s handing out nicknames.”

Peter smiles and shakes his head. “It’s just what her friends call her.”

May frowns. “And it took her three months of dating you to give the invitation out?”

Peter scratches at the back of his neck. “May…MJ and I haven’t exactly been _dating_ , per se.”

“Oh,” she says, and then narrows her eyes. “ _Oh_.”

“I never expected this to happen,” Peter says, hoping to redirect the conversation. “But she’s…amazing, May.”

May nods. “The way you’ve talked about her all this time, you've always known that. What changed?"

"Nothing," Peter says honestly. "It's just been a gradual thing as I got to know her. And then...I realized it. Just like that."

May smiles warmly at him. "That's how it goes, isn't it? The phrase falling in love sounds so sudden, but the only sudden thing about it is the realization." May studies him across the table. "How are you so sure she hasn't been falling too?"

Peter shrugs. "The way she talks about it, about love...it just sounds like she's still so removed from it all. Like it would take a perfect storm for her to feel like I do. But sometimes..." Peter hesitates. "Sometimes I think there's more to us than what we are. Sometimes she'll look at me...and..." Peter shakes his head. "I'm probably just projecting. But I think there's something there. Potential."

May nods. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you should just tell her. But I'm sure you'll figure it out. I'm happy for you, Peter."

And yeah. Even though the situation is still a mess, Peter's happy too. He might have a permanent ache in his chest, longing for her to reciprocate. But he'll take the ache. It sits beside something grand and beautiful that he never thought he'd feel again.

And he is going to find a way to chase the ache away.

-0-0-0-

He told her to wear clothes she doesn't mind ripping. He told her he'd take care of the restraints. He told her by the end of the night, she will have forgotten her own name.

He kneels beside her on the bed, shirtless but still with his pants on. She can see a bulge in them, and can't help but rib him as he ties a scarf around her wrist. Her right arm is now securely attached to the headboard. "Are you seriously already aroused by this? You haven't even touched me yet."

"MJ," he smirks at her, and bends down to kiss her forearm, just above the knot over her wrist. "I've been aroused since you called yesterday and asked me to tie you up tonight."

Michelle snorts, and a heavy heat settles between her legs. "Didn't take you for the dominant type." Except that she _has_ seen this side of him a couple times. The way he talks to her. The power of him when he bends her over and doesn't hold back.

He takes another scarf from the collection he brought, but he leans down to kiss her instead of moving to her other arm. "I wear many masks. Or, um, hats. But mostly I've been so excited because I get the feeling you're not one to offer this often. I'm flattered you trust me so much."

Michelle can only return his kiss in silence before he crawls over her to work at tying her other hand.

And damn it, with one sentence, he has completely undermined her entire purpose for requesting this whole thing. Her goal in this experiment had been to prove to herself that it could just be about sex. And what better to prove that than to try out some light bondage?

She'd done this before. With a couple of women she'd been with. It had been wonderful and thrilling both being tied up _and_ being in control. She'd never liked the power dynamics that were implied if a man was involved, so she’d never even brought it up in past relationships. Of course, none of this had gone through her head when considering Peter.

And it was because she trusted him.

And so, suddenly, this thing that had supposedly been all about sex was instead all about her trusting and loving Peter. She’d groan aloud with the realization if it wouldn’t grab Peter’s attention.

He tightens the second scarf. And, well, Michelle supposes it's too late to back out now. Her desire to keep going has nothing to do with the slickness forming between her legs at the gleam in Peter's eye. No. Not at all.

She clears her throat. “So…when you said you’d bring the restraints, I imagined pink, fluffy handcuffs. Not old scarves.”

Peter chuckles and lies next to her. Normally she’d roll onto her side and throw a hand over his chest. Tonight, she could only turn slightly and tug at the fabric around her wrists. It was infuriating. And thrilling. “I wanted something a little more comfortable for you,” he explains. “How does it feel?”

She tests her hands, tugging and watching the headboard shake with her movements. Her arms are pulled out and above her head, like she’s about to break into song with the Village People. “Honestly, not bad. It feels like I could probably get out if I really tried.”

He smiles and nods. “Good. I brought some more scarves for your legs…but,” he reaches for her hips and turns her on her side the best he can. Her shoulders stay on the bed, but she’s able to twist everything below that. Peter bites his lip. “Yeah,” he croaks out. “I think we’ll both like a little mobility here.”

Michelle’s heart beat quickens at whatever Peter’s thinking. “So…what next?”

Peter leans over her to grab one last scarf and starts folding it lengthwise. “MJ, I know some people, when they do this kind of stuff, they do some role-playing or the one in charge is _really_ in charge. I’m open to that stuff if you want it. But that’s not my style, really.”

She nods. “Okay. I think that’s good.”

Peter looks relieved, and then he straddles her. “Good. So when I blindfold you now…just, I want you to feel comfortable okay? If anything doesn’t feel good for you, you let me know.”

The care on his face is as plain as day. And Michelle is absolutely sure. “I will. But you said it, Peter. I trust you.”

His face lights up at her declaration, and for just a moment she sees a torrent of emotions dance behind his eyes. There's a tenderness there she wishes she could study. She wishes a lot of things about that look, really. But then he brings the scarf down and covers her eyes.

She feels the bed shift as Peter moves, and then his whisper at her ear. "Can you see anything?"

Her mouth is dry, and she can only shake her head. Her other senses seem to dial up. "Good," he says, and she can smell the mint on his breath. She can feel it ghost along her cheek, and goosebumps form on her arms.

He doesn't press his body against her, though she can feel him hover over her, hands pressing into the mattress just under her extended arms. He presses soft lips to the underside of her jaw. Nothing more than a tease. And her inability to wrap his arms around his back makes the teasing all the worse. He's in control now, and Michelle squirms with that knowledge.

His lips move along up to her cheek, toward her lips. Instinctively, Michelle turns her head to catch Peter's lips with hers. But he pulls back. He doesn't say anything, but the message is clear. He's in control now.

Instead, the bed shifts again, and his fingers dip under her shirt to dance along the eager skin of her stomach. The shirt is old. One that she'd slept in for years, but lost its comfort. And then it sat at the bottom of a dresser drawer for years more. When she'd tried to pull it off before Peter started tying her up, he'd stopped her.

She knew, given his request of what she wear, what his plan was, of course. It seems a little silly to her. What was it, some means of stoking his male ego? Did ripping a shirt off have any real meaning other than do display his strength?

But then he rips her shirt, from the bottom all the way up to the neck, and Michelle's hips jerk off the bed of their own accord. The sound of the clothing tearing sends a ripple of desperate hunger through her. "Sweet _fuck_ ," she breathes out before she can stop herself. She hears Peter moan, too. And it's nice to know that while Peter is _definitely_ in control, she's still got that ounce of power over him.

His lips find her breast, just above her bra. She'd warn nice, matching lingerie. And she's tempted to warn him not to tear that, too. But there's still a steady thrum between her thighs, and that makes her think Peter should be able to do whatever he wants.

These kisses are wet, and he drags his tongue along her skin whenever he moves. He stops just under her collarbone and sucks on her skin. "Peter," she hums. She can't see him, but she can see him plain as day in her mind's eye.

Peter doesn't mark her often. She has noticed an increase in frequency of late, though. When he does nip and suck at her skin for too long, he's always kept the proof of him on her body in places she could cover. And she's extremely grateful that he continues that practice now, even when she has no power to stop him. She's also extremely grateful that she'll be able to look at and run a finger over this mark even after he's gone.

She doesn't have time to berate herself for the thought. Peter moves back up her neck and to her cheek again. This time, Michelle refrains from turning her head. "Much better," he whispers against her lips before finally kissing her. His tongue runs along her bottom lip, and he cradles her face in his hand. The touch of his fingers on her cheek is nice, and she once again rattles the headboard in her attempt to reach up and touch him back.

After a time, he kisses down her body once more. He pauses briefly to kiss over the swell of her breasts. The touch of his lips and the tugs of his fingers cause her nipples to harden even through her bra, and she squirms with desire to feel his wet mouth on her. But he continues down her body despite a whimpering protest from her.

The ache between her legs is reaching a nearly unbearable level by the time her makes it down past her navel. But she allows herself the chance to smirk when he pauses at her waistline and takes a deep, steadying breath. She'd worn an old pair of shorts she didn't mind getting ruined, but she couldn't imagine how he'd be able to get them off by ripping again.

Her smirk disappears when he somehow tears right through the waistband and the shorts fall to either side of her hips.

"Oh, god, _Peter_ ," she gasps out as his lips cover her through her underwear, further soaking the already drenched fabric. She bucks her hips into him as she _finally_ feels a slight release in the tension that's been building since he tied the first know. His hands pin her hips to the bed, though, a silent reminder that _he_ is in charge. She lets out a long, frustrated moan. But she doesn't say anything, lest she confess how much she likes it.

Instead, he continues to tease her. In the darkness of her blindfold, she has no concept of time. Only that he spends too long with teasing licks and nips. He takes too long to finally undo the front clasp of her bra and give her newly-exposed skin the attention she craves. He kisses too much skin as he drags the last of her underwear down her legs, lips trailing inch by excruciating inch. And then he takes his sweet time kissing back up. She's dripping for him when he finally passes her knee, and he speaks into her inner thigh.

"You've been so patient, MJ," he tells her. She can hear the smirk in his voice, damn him. And she can envision him perfectly between her legs, eyes a little bit dazed at the scent of her, but still cocky as all shit. "Aside from the occasional begging, of course."

"I was _not_ begging," Michelle bit back.

Peter backs away from her leg—he was _so close_. "Is that so?" he asks.

"Fuck you, Peter, _please_." She can't hate herself for begging though. This is what she signed up for tonight. And boy was he delivering.

"Okay, MJ." His hands ran up her thighs, slow and purposeful. His thumbs drag on her skin until they reach the apex of her thighs, and glide gently along her slit. He takes a long inhale through his nose, and she can sense him so close again. Until—

Her world explodes when his lips finally cover her and his tongue dips inside, drinking her up. She lets out an indecent moan and jerks her hips again. Peter's response this time is to tuck her legs over his shoulders and wrap his hands around her waist. They meet around her middle, and his fingers slide gently over her skin while he fucks her deeper and deeper with his tongue.

She rattles the headboard with her desire to run her hands through his hair. To push him harder against her and rock into his face. But she can't. She's at his mercy and fuck is he merciful.

He turns her on her side the best he can so her hips are turned and his head rests on the inside of her thigh like he's sleeping on a pillow. But he's not sleeping. He's hard at work flicking his tongue over her clit, and the hot coils inside her tighten and tighten. He brings a hand up from her stomach to roll her nipple in time with the swipe of his tongue, and the electricity running up and down her spine are too much.

"Peter," she whimpers out. "Peter fuck I'm so close."

He pulls his lips from her.

"No!"

"Yes," he tells her, and gently kisses the inside of her thigh. The coil loosens, but not terribly so. Not while he's still tugging at the peaks of her breast and kissing and licking so close to her clit. "What do you want, MJ?"

"I want to fucking _come_ ," she groans out.

"How do you want it?" he hums into her, and the coil tightens again. "Do you want me lick inside of you?"

"Yes," she breathes out. And he does so.

"Do you want me to suck your clit, MJ?" he asks, and she can hear the hoarseness of his voice.

"Please," she whispers, and tugs at her restraints hard again. Peter lets it go this time and takes her between his lips and sucks.

She's writhing before he presses two fingers inside her and starts pumping. It's so unexpected that she falls apart right then and there, the coil snapping and sending a flash of blinding light from his lips to her toes and her tied hands. She clenches them and lets out a choked cry while her back arches off of the bed.

Peter doesn't stop, though, and he fingers and tongues her through her orgasm, drawing out the bliss right into a second wave. It crashes into her as unexpectedly as the first and she screams into her bedroom with a drawn out curse. "Peter, _fuck!"_

Minutes or days or hours or seconds pass as he brings her down from her high. Somehow over her own panting, she hears his harried breathing. His hand trembles against her thigh. And then he's hopping from the bed, and she hears the familiar crinkle of a condom package. "Yes, Peter, get inside me."

"Fuck MJ, I was going to make this go all night, but I can't fucking wait any more."

"I don't care, Peter," she says into the darkness as he kneels back on the bed.

And like his fingers and her orgasms, he surprises her by how quickly he enters her. He straddles her thigh, lifts her other leg up against his chest, and presses inside of her hard and deep. She gasps out when he immediately pulls back and thrusts right back in.

While he rocks at an unfathomable pace, he thumbs at her clit. It 's sensitive, but still feels oh-so-good, and she lets her moans of pleasure fill the room. Peter's own groans merge with hers, and he kisses her calf and nips at her skin there.

She can't see him, but she knows the expression he wears like the back of her hand. He's close, and he's got his eyes shut tight in an effort to stave off his orgasm for her. But despite how good she feels, she's not coming again anytime soon. She's tempted to tell him to let go and stop worrying about her. But he's in control. Even if, in this moment, he has absolutely no control.

It's important to keep the illusion of the restraints.

He comes apart and she feels him pulse inside of her. After a final few thrusts, he falls forward onto her, and presses his lips to her neck in an exhausted impression of a kiss. "MJ, wow, you're amazing."

"Peter, can you untie me?"

He freezes, and then jerks off of her in an instant. "Yes, of course," he rushes out, and she swears he _tears_ the knot in the scarf at her right hand instead of simply untying it. "I'm so sorry, MJ. Are you okay?"

She pulls off her blindfold to see a very worried face looking back at her. He gets the second knot undone, and MJ brings her hands up to wrap her arms around him and pull her back to her chest.

"More than okay," she whispers into his ear.

"Oh," he breathes out in relief. "Oh good." His arms snake around her back and they hold each other close. "This is nice."

Michelle doesn't know what to say. She doesn't understand her intense need to hold him close to her after that experience. To run her hands up and down his skin freely after being deprived of that ability. "I...um. I really liked that, Peter," she admits to him. She runs her hand through his hair. "Not enough to give up doing this regularly," she adds with a tug at his curls. "But it was... _so_ good."

He pulls back from their embrace enough to look her in the eyes and gauge her sincerity. He smiles when he finds no guile. He presses a kiss to her lips, long and slow. MJ melts into the kiss until he pulls back.

"I liked it too, MJ. But...maybe you tie me up next time we feel like trying it?"

She nods with a laugh. And it's absurd, really, that she thought this experience wouldn't make her fall harder and farther for him.

She'll need a new tactic.

-0-0-0-

"Dude, you alright?"

Peter startles and looks up from the TV in his and Ned's shared apartment. The TV is off. And Ned looks concerned.

"Oh, hey man. Yeah...I'm..."

He doesn't finish the sentence because he can't stop thinking about her. About last night.

"You don't seem alright," Ned says cautiously and steps into the room.

"You were right, buddy. This arrangement with MJ didn't go as planned. And now I'm in love with her, and I have no way of telling her without losing her."

Ned frowns. "Are you sure?"

Peter shrugs. "I don't know, man. Sometimes I think she feels something too. I mean...a guarded girl like that doesn't ask you to tie her up and let you have your way with her without it meaning _something_ , right?"

Ned cringes. "Dude...I thought we said no details."

But Peter ignores him. "And the look in her eyes, Ned. After I pulled off the blindfold I mean—"

"Dude!"

"—was just...I don't know. Tender?"

And the way she just _held_ him afterwards. Was it really just some post-coital ritual? Or did she feel things, too? Did her whole insides ache when he wasn't close like his did for her?

"Maybe she feels it too, then," Ned suggests.

Peter nods. "Maybe. But she also just talked about her job and focus and how hard it would be to love again when I probed her about it." He sighs. "But I honestly think she could love me in other circumstances. If we hadn't started under this pretense. We get along crazy well, Ned."

Ned nods, a sad smile on his face. "I know dude. You've been telling me about her non-stop for months now."

"I just wish I had a do-over or something. A chance to meet her without reducing the relationship to sex from the start."

And then a crazy idea comes to him. So crazy, that there's no way of it working. Right?

But what does he have to lose?

"Ned...I think I can have a second chance."

-0-0-0-

Michelle doesn't take a lot of time for herself during work hours. She knows what it will take for her to succeed. She'll have to work twenty percent harder and smarter than the average guy to get to the same place. It's the state of the business and country she's in. And she plans to change it. But that's the reality at this point.

But lunch time? That's her escape. That's when she lets herself enjoy an hour with Betty. Or, more regularly, go to the roof of her building with her home-packed meal, and stare out at the city while she eats.

It lets her unwind and de-stress in the middle of the day. It lets her stop worrying about work for a minute, and that usually ends up helping her with her work. And it lets her think about Peter.

"Nice day out," a voice startles her from behind. Other people have come to the roof before, but it's rare. It's not like there are tables and chairs up here. She eats standing up, food on the elbow-high wall that runs the perimeter of her building. Not many people like that, so she's surprised that someone has joined her on the roof.

She's even _more_ surprised when she turns around to see Spider-Man, casually leaning against a large air conditioning unit—not yet in use in the early Spring weather.

When Michelle finally collects her wits, she tries to play it cool that she's finally meeting New York's very own. "It _is_ nice out. How's it going, Spidey?"

His eyes bend shape in a way that Michelle _thinks_ indicates he's smiling. It really is nice of him to program some emotion output into those comically large eyes.

"Pretty good. Just swinging through the city looking for trouble."

"Did you find it?" she asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He lets out a laugh that's familiar in a way. It puts her at ease. He shakes his head at her. "Didn't think I had, but now you've got me questioning."

"I have that affect on people," Michelle retorts. And a crazy idea comes to her, in this moment of easy banter with Spider-Man of all people.

Maybe the key to getting over Peter is simply to move on. Find someone else she can feel the same way about. Not Spider-Man, of course. That's just silly. But...someone out there can compete with Peter, surely? And on that day, she can end things with Peter without confessing a love that would put a wedge in the incredible friendship they've forged. And, as a cherry on top, she wouldn't have to stop the incredible sex until she found that someone else, either.

It really was the only solution.

"I'm Spider-Man," the hero says to her, shaking her from her thoughts.

She merely snorts. "Yeah, dude, I know."

He tilts his head, and she's not sure what he's waiting for. He lets out a chuckle, and proceeds to walk toward the wall, just a few feet from her. He leaps onto it and crouches in his famous pose. Michelle lets herself trace the shape of him with her eyes before settling on his eyes again. "Alright, don't want to share your name with me. I can respect that. I'll see you around, Trouble."

And with that, he leaps off of her building and swings through the city.

It takes thirty seconds for Michelle to close her mouth and admit to herself that Spider-Man had been attempting a little bit more than playful banter. The idea was so absurd, she's not surprised she hadn't caught on.

But now that she has, Michelle sincerely hopes he meant it when he said he'd see her around.

If ever anyone could compete with Peter, it would be a fucking super hero. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to finally get the alter-ego in the mix. I love me a love triangle of two people!!


	5. The Edge

"So, um. You mentioned meeting my brother?"

"Yeah. Yes. Does he want to?"

"He's applying to a couple of positions at SI, and wanted to pick your brain about the interview process."

"Of course, yeah. I'd be happy to help. Plus, I finally get to meet your family!"

"Great. And...that won't be weird for you?"

"I mean...it's not like when I meet him I have to explain that we had this conversation just before I ate you out."

"No...I guess you don't."

"Now hush, and let me get back to work here."

"Be my guest, Pete."

-0-0-0-

Peter sees her on the roof again. He's perched on a nearby building above hers. She'd told him she likes to eat up there on her lunch breaks. And sure enough, she's been here four of the last five days he's swung by. He spends long tortuous minutes debating with himself whether he should swing down again. He knows he will eventually; he's got a mission, after all. But what is the proper amount of time so that she doesn't think he's a creepy stalker or something?

It's been a week. That seems like a nice amount of time.

So he steels himself with a deep breath, and jumps off his building.

He lands with more noise this time, so as to give her warning before startling her with his modulated voice again. She turns at the sound, and he's relieved to see her smile at him. Their meeting had been brief, but fun. He's glad he left a positive impression on her.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," she says.

"Been expecting me, Trouble?" he asks, and walks closer to her. It looks like she's finished eating her meal, with her Tupperware carefully sealed back up in her lunch bag.

She leans against the half-wall that runs along the outside of the building, elbows bent casually atop it. The wind blows her hair gently across her face. Peter has to remind himself that MJ doesn't know Spidey yet before he reaches out to tuck the loose strands behind her ear.

"This new nickname you've given me," she smirks. "Is it going to stick?"

"At least until I get your real name. Maybe even after that."

Michelle hums. "And why is that? Do I give off some vibe that triggers your superhero warning bells?"

"It's called a spider sense," Peter tells her. "But no...it's not the superhero that's intrigued by you."

She bites her lip, and turns around to stare out to the city again. Peter cringes. He should've known not to come on so strong. _He_ may be comfortable with her, but she thinks he is a near-stranger. If he hadn't already ruined things, he'd need to be much more careful going forward.

"Michelle," she says. Peter feels the strangest pain at her name. He's relieved, of course, that she is offering her name and therefore some interest. But it's an up-close-and-personal demonstration of how disconnected Michelle feels towards _Peter_ , that she would so quickly accept Spider-Man's advances.

It's almost enough for him to leave and go find a bad guy to punch really hard.

But he reminds himself that if it's not Spider-Man, it could be anyone else. And that 'anyone else' wouldn't be Peter in disguise.

"Well, Michelle, it's nice to meet you," he says, and steps up to the wall to stand beside her.

"So, are you stalking me then?" she asks.

"Wha—what?" he stammers, looking over to her with raised, defensive hands.

"Just wondering why you find _me_ of all people intriguing." She looks indifferent, but Peter is too familiar with her to be fooled. She's nervous, holding her breath, playing with her fingernails on the building's wall.

"Well, anytime I see someone looking down from a really tall building, I drop by to check on them, which is how we met the first time. I see you up here almost every day though, alone. I find that interesting. Also...you're really pretty."

She turns sharply to him, eyes narrowed. "And if I wasn't pretty?" she asks, accusation in her tone.

Peter shrugs. "I'd still find you interesting."

She studies him for a moment. "How old are you anyway? Like forty?"

Peter laughs. "What? No...I'm twenty-five."

Michelle's mouth drops. "You can't be," she shakes her head. "That means you've been doing this since you were fifteen!"

Peter leans against the wall, trying to look cool. "You've been keeping track of me, have you?"

"Oh shut up," she says with a grin and a flush. It reminds him of how she interacts with Peter. With _himself_ obviously. Still, that bittersweet pang is back in his chest that she can so easily behave like this with someone else.

It's a possessive and absurd feeling, Peter knows. He feels it all the same.

"Everyone in my school was obsessed with you," Michelle goes on to explain. "The hero of Queens. I can't believe you were my age the whole time."

Peter can't believe it himself sometimes. "Yeah...probably wasn't the smartest of me to do that as a teenager." He shrugs. "Still, I'm proud of most of those early years. Aside from a few bumps and scrapes, it was a pretty joyful experience."

"Not anymore?" she asks.

"What do you do for a living?" he responds with a question.

"I'm a lawyer," she says tentatively.

Peter nods. "Probably a grind for ninety-five percent of the day, right? But when you make a difference for someone, or know you will in the future? That joy and sense of fulfillment make it all worth it. That's Spider-Man life for me."

She hums. "I guess that makes sense."

A police siren rings out, and the call pops up on Peter's mask interface. Robbery in progress.

"Oh, shit. Speak of the devil, I gotta go," he says, and jumps up onto the wall.

"Well, don't be a stranger," she says. And once more, Peter can tell she's only playing it cool. She's nervous to be putting herself out there. And it's a gut-punch once more that she is doing it at all.

"I won't," Peter responds through the pain. Because this was always the plan. The hope. Didn't make it any less shitty that MJ could so easily make a move on someone else. Peter knows _he_ wouldn't be capable.

He jumps from the building, and lets the swoop of the freefall distract him. It hardly does the trick.

-0-0-0-

Watching Peter shake hands with her brother Mike is unsettling.

Peter is a grand secret she's kept from everybody in her life except for Betty. And even Betty hasn't had the pleasure of meeting Peter. It's a weird convergence of her life and...well, whatever Peter is. He takes up enough of her time and brain space, she supposes she should consider him a part of her real life.

Maybe that's why it's so disquieting. In the strangest of ways, an introduction of Peter to her normal life feels like she's opening a door to herself and asking Peter to come on in. Considering she'd fallen for him _without_ the invitation, she's terrified of the effects this meeting could have on her.

She tries to think of Spider-Man's charm. His casual flirtation, and how utterly flattered she is that a hero, true and super as he is, could have his interest piqued by _her_.

But such thoughts are futile. Thinking of Spidey is always tough when she's around Peter because he consumes all of her thoughts like a starving hound in a dumpster outside a butcher's shop. Never mind that her analogy compares her mind to a trash can. It feels that way of late.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. So how do you know my sister?" Mike asks the dreaded question as they settle into a booth at a little cafe in Queens. She takes the seat next to her brother, across from Peter. "She's been so cagey about you when I ask her."

"Do you think that means she's ashamed of me or humbled by me?" Peter retorts, and throws a wink at her. And fuck him, truly.

Mike laughs. "No way of knowing, really."

"We met in a bar...what four months ago, MJ?"

Michelle nods. "That sounds about right," she says, as if she doesn't know it is three months, three weeks, and three days. Is that some sort of fun anniversary? She'll ask Peter later tonight when he joins her back at her place. She suspects he'll think of a fun way to celebrate.

Mike looks back and forth between the two, and Michelle can see the gears turning in his head. But he's socially aware enough not to ask the nature of their relationship.

"So, tell me," Peter says, and leans forward on the table. "Did you have that old lunatic Dr. Watkins for your Thermodynamics class?"

Mike's eyes light up, and just like that, Michelle knows that Peter has already wormed his way into her brother's heart, too.

It's unfair, really. Here she is, trying to move on. Find reasons _not_ to love him, and he goes and endears himself to her family. God forbid she ever introduce him to her dad and they find some obscure thing to bond over, like rock collection.

Damn it, she's pretty sure both her dad and Peter collect rocks. _Fuck_.

"...don't you think, Michelle?"

"Hmm?" she shakes her head. She looks over at Peter, who is watching her with amusement. He lifts his eyebrows at her when Mike repeats his question.

"I was just saying how interested in clean energy I am, so it would make sense to try to work at SI."

Mike gives her a pleading look, like she's supposed to be selling him to Peter right now. But Mike needn't worry. Peter's a good egg. And he'll be able to see Mike for the genius he is. "Absolutely," she says anyway, and turns to Peter. "This kid was playing with solar panels on our fire escape and using potatoes to power clocks when he was eight years old. His room looked like a science experiment gone wrong."

Peter grins. "Dude, that was me, too. I'd go dumpster diving and find all sorts of shit to see what I could make work. My aunt and uncle instituted a monthly purge of my bedroom and my closet to keep it from overfilling with broken electronics."

Mike laughs. Peter laughs.

Michelle laughs to keep from crying.

-0-0-0-

"I'm telling you, man, she was straight up flirting with me today," Peter grumbles. "Like, if MJ was the kind of girl to bat her eyelashes, she'd have been batting her eyelashes at Spidey."

"Hold up, isn't that exactly what you _want_?" Ned says, exasperated.

Peter's lying on the couch, tossing a tennis ball in the air. Ned's at the kitchen table, two laptops open, his work forgotten. Peter feels a little bad for interrupting his best friend while he's working, especially to talk about MJ again, but Peter's going crazy.

"Of course I _want_ it, Ned. But it still sucks. I'm in love with this girl, and she...she's just obviously not into me like that."

Peter holds onto the tennis ball and looks over at Ned. He's a combination of dubious and sympathetic. "She introduced you to her brother last week," Ned supplied. "That's more than you've done."

Peter lets himself smile. For an hour and a half, laughing with Mike, sneaking secret glances at Michelle, it had all felt...possible. Like he could be a part of her life in more places than just between her legs. And sometimes he swears he sees that possibility written on her face, too. When her eyes linger on him, and that soft expression comes to her face. And he knows it's not thirst or lust. He's well-acquainted with that look on MJ's face.

But then she goes and flirts with Spider-Man. She touched his arm today while laughing at a dumb joke he'd made. The touch had sent a familiar shock up his arm. And then the sickening feeling in his gut followed.

Peter shakes his head. "What am I supposed to do, Ned? Tell her, 'hey, want to come over to my place for the first time ever and hang out with Ned and me?'"

Ned frowns. "Um...yes."

"It's not that easy!" Peter groans. "We had rules! No complications."

"Sorry, man. But you already broke that rule a long time ago."

-0-0-0-

Peter eats over at Michelle's place a lot more often now. He stays over on weekends a lot, too. They had set a dangerous precedent with his first sleepover and breakfast morning. And now that Michelle knows she can't pretend it's all about sex anymore, she stopped denying herself the pleasure of Peter's company outside of the bedroom.

The first time, she asked if he wanted to come over and he said he'd just eat dinner and be right over. She'd debated with herself for twenty-seven seconds before telling him she had made enough penne rosa for two, and he should just come over.

He had. They had a lovely dinner together. He complimented her cooking. He told her how nice she looked. They drank a little wine together and told each other about their day. And then he'd made her come on his fingers, his mouth, and his cock later that night.

It's not every night, of course. They have some semblance of boundaries; some unspoken rule that they best not tempt Rule Three—even though she'd already broken that one so hard it lay scattered about her apartment, and she's starting to wonder if there's any coming back from it. Particularly when her Saturday morning finds her arm thrown around a peacefully slumbering Peter, and the light of the morning sun on his beautiful face makes her heart thunder in her chest.

Spider-Man is great. He's fun, easy to talk to. He actually reminds her of Peter in that way. Her lunch hours breeze by when he visits. Which is two or three times a week, now. He's also heroic, and Michelle finds that attractive and admirable. And in a vacuum, she could totally see herself catching feelings over his bad jokes, good and kind nature, and a body that those spandex certainly aren't obscuring.

But she's not in a vacuum. She's in her bed, and Peter's eyes flicker open to catch her staring at him.

"Morning, Em," he says sleepily, and a smile comes to his lips.

Em. A nickname that has surprisingly never been used before—except by Peter in the last couple of weeks. To get her attention to ask her to pass the salt. When he's pumping his fingers into her at an unfathomable pace, accompanied by " _Fuck_ ". And now. When he's waking up to her in her bed.

She doesn't trust herself to speak, so she brings her lips to his shoulder to press kisses to his hot skin. His free hand cards through her hair as she kisses across his chest, and with each tug of her hair, she feels a growing desperation to give these damnable feelings an outlet. Her fingernails dig into his side and she licks his nipple. He hisses with pleasure.

She'll have to double down on her time with Spidey. She can't go on like this. She'll explode.

Peter flips her with a moan and slots between her legs. His face is of pure adoration as he brushes loose hair from her face and rubs her with his rapidly-hardening length.

She'll double down on Spidey, definitely. Just...after this.

-0-0-0-

"Do you ever get tired standing for your whole lunch hour?" Peter asks her. It can't be comfortable, standing here and eating every day. Not that he's complaining. It gives him opportunity to spend time with her as Spider-Man.

MJ shrugs. "A little bit," she says. "But it's worth it not to have chairs up here. I'd hate to have other people enjoy the roof and interrupt my alone time."

"Wow...alright, Michelle. I can take a hint," he says with a smirk and starts to walk away.

"Dork," she laughs, and grabs his arm to spin him back around. Peter's stomach flips.

He feels stupid feeling the nerves and excitement at a simple touch. He's lost count of how many times he's been inside her. He couldn't begin to estimate the number of hours they've spent naked in each other's company, with casual touches and kisses to bare skin.

And yet, it's like he's in a completely new relationship with her when he's got the mask on. He supposes he is, in a way. He skipped this part of a relationship with Michelle—the uncertain flirting, the little touches that _might_ mean something, but who really knows. It’s exciting, in a strange way.

There are downsides too, of course. He's got to pretend he doesn't know much about her, which has its own difficulties as he battles with what memories belong to Spidey, and which belong to Peter. Not to mention the guilt of deception he feels.

And this new relationship comes with butterflies and skin that lights up with her touch. Both a pro and a con, really.

"Obviously I like your company," she says when he's turned back around, smiling at her with a smile he knows she can't see. But he thinks she's starting to be able to read him through the mask.

"And I like yours," he says back to her. "Which is why I want to make it a more comfortable experience for you."

He hops onto the wall, and sits down. At least a hundred feet to the ground behind him. Probably closer to two. He pats the ledge next to him, looking expectantly at Michelle.

"You can't seriously expect me to sit up there," she deadpans, looking oh-so-unimpressed with his invitation.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," he tells her.

"I promise that me not wanting to sit on the edge of a building has nothing to do with my trust levels of you," she counters.

But Peter only pats the space beside him once more.

She crosses her arms. But she does lean forward to peer over the wall to the ground below. "Jesus," she mutters.

He softly touches her shoulder, nothing more than a comforting gesture. She looks up at him. "I got you, Michelle."

She stares at him for a long time, and Peter can see the war in her mind. He's not entirely sure the debate she's having. Probably going back and forth about just how scared of heights she is and how reliable a safety belt Spider-Man would make.

She extends her hand. It's a little shaky, but her face wears resolve. So Peter takes her hand, and lifts her easily to sit next to him. He puts his hand around her back, as she settles into position. She sits so far forward that there's just about zero risk of her falling backwards off the building.

"The view is better if we face the other way," Peter offers.

"Damn it Spidey, give me two fucking seconds to come to grips with being inches from my death. _Please_."

Peter laughs, but makes sure she can feel his arm safely behind her. She still hasn't let go of his other hand, either, and her vice grip might be painful if he didn't have super strength. He can feel her pulse at her wrist. It's racing. The closeness of her makes his own heart speed up.

After a moment, she nods. "Okay. How do we do this?"

In a blink, Peter pulls his hand free of hers and spins on the ledge so he's facing outwards.

" _Jesus,"_ she gasps, but he's already got his arm out around her front this time, hand at her waist to pin her to him. "A little warning next time, Spidey?"

"Didn't want to give you time to freak out," he smiles. "Now I've got you, if you want to turn around."

"Fuck," she says, breathless, and Peter tries not to think of how many times he's heard her say that under different circumstances.

He vaguely remembers what it felt like to be afraid of heights, a decade ago. That old memory makes him all the more impressed with Michelle as she shakily shifts her weight into him to bring her legs up and over the wall. Peter holds her tight as she chants, “oh god, oh god,” on repeat until she’s stationary and facing outward.

Even with his super strength, her grip on his arm is painful.

“I’ve got you,” Peter says again.

“Stop fucking telling me you’ve got me, Spidey. I _know_ you’ve got me. That’s still,” she looks down, “ _shit_ like a thousand feet down.”

Peter knows correcting her estimate would not help the situation. Instead, he squeezes her around the waist to remind her he was there. “I’m really impressed,” he tells her. “And flattered by your trust. Thank you.”

She turns to him and gives him a curious look for a moment. Then remembers the danger she’s in and look back at the ground. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says, and shakes her head.

“Look out,” Peter tries. “Instead of down. Look at the Avengers' Tower.”

He points with his free hand, and Michelle follows his direction. She takes big long breaths.

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks after a moment. “And as much as I still hate it, I have to admit it feels pretty cool with my feet dangling like this.” She bounces her feet a couple times, like a kid sitting in a chair too big for them. Then she squeezes him again and freezes. “Fuck that wasn’t smart.”

Peter chuckles, and revels in this moment. He feels blessed, being able to see her like this. He’s been confined to her bedroom for too long. Though they’ve ventured out all around her apartment, and he’s met her brother now too. But this…this was a glimpse of Michelle he could’ve only dreamed of a month ago. And even though it hurt that he couldn’t experience it as _Peter_ , he’s just glad he can see her.

“You’re kind of amazing, Michelle,” he tells her.

She looks back over at him, and the fear leaves her gaze for just long enough for Peter to see how absolutely pleased she is with his compliment.

“MJ,” she says. “My friends call me MJ.”

And the invitation hits Peter square in the chest. Just as it had the first time. On that day, the name had acted almost like a passcode, opening a barrier around his heart that he hadn’t known had a doorway. Today, her name was a battering ram, taking advantage of the open doorway to pummel his heart.

It had taken her three months to open up to Peter like that. And a practical stranger who spent a couple hours a week with her had gotten the name in a month.

Peter suffers the blow to his heart though. This was always the plan, and he should be relieved it is working. No matter how much it sucks, it’s the only way to get _beyond_ friends.

“And what do they call you if they’re more than friends?” he asks boldly.

MJ bites her lip, and a flurry of emotions passes through her eyes. She looks as though she has an answer to the question, which only batters Peter’s heart harder. She’s never given him another nickname to use.

“I’ve already climbed onto a building's edge with you Spidey,” she tells him. “I think that’s enough of a leap to take today.”

He manages to chuckle lightly. “I suppose it is, MJ.” He squeezes her again and pulls her against him. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for though.”

She doesn’t respond to him, but she does take a long, steadying breath. And they watch the gorgeous skyline until her lunch break is over.

-0-0-0-

If nothing else comes out of the experience of pegging Peter Parker, Michelle will at least have a new appreciation for his ass.

She's always liked it, of course. Watching as he struts around her bedroom naked. Grabbing it in her hands while he pumps into her. Or taking a small bite when they're being playful before things turn frantic.

But now, as she slides her well-lubricated strap-on in and out, her hands firmly clutching each cheek, she has a whole new perspective. She can also better understand just why Peter loves doggy style so much. She feels powerful and in control, in a way she hadn't even felt when they'd switched roles and she tied Peter up.

(It had been an odd feeling, and probably foolish, but she spent the whole time thinking that Peter could've broken his restraints whenever he wanted. And so the control she thought she'd have felt more like he'd _allowed_ her to have it. The night was still thrilling, and they'd be repeating it, but it wasn't quite what she'd expected.)

"Fuck," Peter whimpers, his head buried in the mattress, eyes shut tight. She's never heard him make some of these noises before tonight, and watching him turn into a puddle throughout the night was something out of a dream. "Em you fuck so _good_."

It was a new experience for her. They'd been talking about exes, and Peter mentioned a past boyfriend. One thing led to another, and she was suggesting she peg Peter before either of them really knew what was happening. "I'll have to dust off my penis," she said, and Peter burst out laughing. Her strap-on hadn't been used in years, though. She was only half-joking. And then she worried about it for a few days, until she and Peter decided it was worth a go.

Peter took care of her first, joking that he couldn't guarantee he'd be of much use when she was done with him. So he licked and fingered her to completion before they strapped her in, and brought out the lube.

She and Peter were slow and cautious. It had been a couple years for him, too, after all. He showed her what he liked, and Michelle was shocked at how intimate it was preparing him for her. A unique experience after months of exploring just about everything else. And then he rolled over on his stomach, and told her, "I'm ready, MJ."

She slows down now, reflecting on how slowly she'd started. Peter moans at the change of pace and he jerks himself off in time with the slow roll of her hips.

"Peter," she whispers, almost like if she speaks too loudly, she'll break this spell cast on them.

"Yeah Em?" he pants into the mattress.

"Can I turn you around?" she asks as she slides out of him.

He nods silently and rolls to his back. He looks unlike he ever has before. In bliss and utterly destroyed all at once, and MJ knows the feeling well from the last several months with him. But it's delightful to see it on his face.

She shifts over on her knees to fit between his legs again. He stares up at her with adoration in his eyes. He casually strokes himself as she runs her hands up and down his thighs. "This okay for you?" he asks her.

"I'm loving it," she tells him honestly. "Am I doing okay?"

"The best, unsurprisingly." Her heart clenches. He's not allowed to look at her with eyes like _that_ when he tells her doesn't feel deep feelings anymore. It's incongruous and confusing and heart-breaking.

She reaches around his thighs and lifts his legs up. She feels a little silly with the strap-on, if she's being honest. But as she grabs the base and teases Peter with it, the silliness fades. It's just them. His moans of her name. Her telling him to beg for it.

" _Please, Em,_ get inside me!" She pushes in again, if only to sate her own building hunger. His hand strokes faster, and Michelle reaches down to cover his hand with hers. They stroke him together, which is necessary at first. Michelle doesn't have the rhythm down yet. She has a new appreciation for Peter's ability to pump into her and simultaneously tease her clit with delicious precision.

But she gets the hang of it after a minute and takes over. Peter's eyes are closed, and he balls up the sheets in his hands while she works him. "MJ," he gasps out. "I'm so fucking close. Please, Em, I almost—"

He cuts himself off with a strangled cry, and he twitches in her hand. Hot streams jet onto his chest and stomach, and Michelle digs her fingernails into his thigh at the beautiful sight and sound before her. A wave of pleasure rolls through her simply from watching him. She pulls out of him as he pants, still oblivious to the world around him.

She removes the strap-on after she climbs off the bed, and walks to her nightstand to collect some wipes. She moves to lay next to Peter, and wipes him clean. He hisses at the cold and wet wipe, but turns his head to grin at her.

"Can I get you off som..." he starts weakly, but Michelle just cuts him off with a kiss.

"I don't need to have an orgasm to have really enjoyed that, Peter."

He nods and his eyes flutter shut. She smirks. It was nice of him to offer, but she rather likes knowing he probably wouldn't have even been capable of getting her off again. He is useless right now, and she loves that she did that to and for him. She tosses the wipe away and cuddles up next to Peter, pulling the blankets over them.

He wraps an arm over her middle and buries his face in her neck. "You're so...amazing, MJ. Thank you. Thank you for trying that."

He talks like a lover. Not just a lover. Like someone in love. Whenever she'd let herself imagine someone she could fall in love with, they'd talk like him. He looks at her like she wants to be looked at. He cares about her like she wants to be taken care of. He trusts her like she wants to be trusted.

And it's not fucking fair that she finally has it—it actually exists with Peter—and it's not real.

Peter lifts his head to look at her, concern in his eyes. "MJ...is something wrong?" he asks. "Was that not..."

"No, Peter!" she says hurriedly, terrified that he'd seen the pain on her face and equated it to what they'd just done together. "That was wonderful. I said it, and I meant it."

He looks a little relieved, but still stares at her with those tender eyes, big and brown and for _her_. But not for her, not fully. "So what's up?"

She shakes her head. "It's...nothing. Well, it's something. But not something you can help. It's not your fault."

He's confused and concerned, but doesn't say any more. Instead, he settles back on her and his grip tightens around her waist. He presses tiny kisses to her neck and shoulder until he falls asleep.

And it's suddenly too much. She knows she can't keep doing this to herself. The idea that she could fall out of love with Peter while still sleeping with him—figuratively and literally—is a joke. Betty was right.

Maybe there's still a way they can be friends. She has to believe that, because Peter has become such a vital part of her life, she's not sure she can let go of him completely.

He snores lightly, his breath dancing hot and intoxicating over her skin. Her heart constricts at the simple intimacy of it.

This much, she can stop. She can tell Peter their little arrangement is over, and pray he still wants to be a part of her life. Just...after a cool-down, perhaps. After she can come to grips with what she's lost. What she never had, really.

Spider-Man had asked her what to call her if they were more than friends. She doubts she'd ever give him Peter's pet name for her, _Em_. But maybe she could tell him they could try to figure it out.

And maybe, one day, she won't hurt when she thinks about Peter anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried a couple of new things writing this fic. I hope it's been enjoyable to read. And...I'm sorry about the angst. And I'm sorry there's a little more to come. I honestly didn't expect to write *quite* this angsty. But it's really not that bad, right?


	6. Ghosts

"So, can I come by tonight?"

"Umm..."

"Last night was so good MJ, thanks again."

"It _was_ good. Really, really good."

"So you good for tonight?"

"I..."

"...is something wrong?"

"No, I just. Tonight's not good."

"Oh okay, no problem. Next time then."

"Yeah—um, yeah."

-0-0-0-

"I was hoping you'd drop by today," Michelle says when Spider-Man lands on the rooftop. She'd successfully avoided Peter for the rest of the weekend. But she knows ghosting him is out of the question. She'd need to be honest with him eventually. Well...at least honest enough to tell him things were over. As fuck buddies. Maybe they'd be friends again someday. But for that to happen, she'd need to move on.

And she likes Spider-Man.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, and steps up to the wall beside her. She swallows the fear she's used to now, and hops up on the building's ledge. Spidey appraises her, and steps between her legs while his hands find her waist, to keep her safe. But also...he's always been the more forward of the two.

She lifts her hands atop his shoulders, and tries to fight off the image of playing at the curls on Peter's nape, and instead traces the Spider-Suit lines at his neck.

"This is new," he hums, and his grip on her tightens. He sounds pleased, but there's more in his voice—and not just the modulation that is more obvious some times than others.

"Do you...want to come by my place sometime?" she asks, and she can't keep the shakiness out of her voice.

Spider-Man's mechanical eyes widen in surprise, and she immediately shakes her head. "Not...not like that," she clarifies. "I just...I only see you here. And, I want to see more of you. On my rooftop. If you want."

He visibly swallows. "I want."

She lets out an exhale. "Cool. Yeah, good. Now, hop up on this wall with me."

He obeys, keeping a hand close as she turns out to face the city again. The first time she'd done this, it had been some probably-misguided notion that she could show Spider-Man the same trust she'd developed with Peter. And while it _had_ helped strengthen her bond with Spider-Man, it did absolutely nothing to diminish what she had with Peter. An unintended consequence to it all was that Michelle had developed a taste for the thrill of the height, and the sight of the city with nothing under her feet.

And she also liked the feel of Spider-Man's arm wrapped around her, keeping her secure.

He isn't Peter. And she doubts he can ever take that piece of her heart that she'd unwittingly given Peter. But maybe she could fall again. This time, with Spidey to catch her.

So she gives him her address. She gives him her phone number. She gives him just a little more of herself.

-0-0-0-

"MJ isn't answering me," Peter says, pocketing his phone and pacing in the kitchen. Ned looks on sympathetically.

"Text or call?" he asks.

"Both," Peter sighs. His heart feels like lead. No. Heavier than lead. Polonium or some shit like that. Or hell, Uranium. Peter's radioactive after all. And it sure feels like his heart is decaying in addition to being heavy.

"And Spider-Man?" Ned asks softly.

"I haven't texted from Spidey's number yet," Peter admits. Ned's eyes are sad and understanding.

"Peter—this was the plan."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't suck," Peter says through a tight throat. It feels like the tenth time he's complained to Ned about this in one form or another. Maybe he'd gone about this all wrong. Maybe if he hadn't pursued her as Spidey, he'd still be blissfully happy with her, fucking nightly and spending weekends in her bed, making breakfast in her kitchen. Maybe he could've won her over with enough time.

Or maybe she'd have found someone else who wasn't him.

"You should tell her how you feel, Peter," Ned tells him for the thousandth time.

"What good would that do?" Peter bites back. "She clearly doesn't feel the same way. Besides...she's not even talking to me."

Ned nods solemnly. "Sorry, man. But hey...at least you got Spider-Man."

And through the pain and hurt, Peter feels something new. Fear.

Will MJ feel betrayed when he finally takes his mask off for her? She's already put him in the doghouse for reasons he doesn't know. Will the revelation that he's been lying to her bury him deeper?

Peter groans. "I've got to go punch something," he tells Ned, and hurries back to his room to change.

When he gets his suit on, he doesn't tell Karen to text MJ about a visit. He needs to think. And if she can leave him hanging, he can do the same to her.

-0-0-0-

When MJ had decided to put more of a focus on Spider-Man and try to wean herself off of Peter, she hadn't expected Spidey to start avoiding her at the same time she was avoiding Peter. It sucked, and it made her feel sick for the way she either dismissed Peter's proposals with flimsy excuses or ignored them completely. With Spider-Man no longer visiting and not messaging her about coming to her rooftop, MJ had a stark wake-up call that what she was doing to Peter was not cool.

"Did something happen with you and Peter?" her brother Mike asks her, shaking her out of her thoughts.

MJ startles, and has to blink a few times to register what Mike had even said. Her hesitation gives her dad time to jump in.

"Peter?" Leo asks. "Shelley, who's Peter?"

"No—nobody," she lies before glaring at her brother. "Why...why would you even ask that?"

"Because you're acting weird," he explains simply.

"And what does that have to do with Peter?" she retorts, not seeing the point in denying her odd behavior.

"Who's Peter?" Leo asks again.

"Yes, Michelle," Mike says with a grin. "Who is Peter?"

Her insides squirm. She doesn't know how to answer that question. She wouldn't be able to properly describe him in an empty room, with only herself as witness. How could she possibly explain the situation and the man to her dad and brother?

Mike's face falls as he watches her, and his eyes soften. "Seriously, Michelle...are you okay?"

Michelle takes deep breaths, and tries to hide the irregularity from her family. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. And Peter's fine. He's just a friend, Dad," she tells him, turning from her brother. "Don't know why Mike brought him up."

"I brought him up because he's awesome," Mike says, still frowning at her. "He gave the recruiters at SI a great recommendation for me, and it seemed like you and he had something going on. Am I wrong?"

"He's just a friend," Michelle says again, but she can hear the strain in her voice.

"Well...then that's a shame," Mike says. Her dad studies her, and she knows her face tells a much different story than her words. "It didn't feel like that to me."

Michelle sighs. "Yeah, well, sometimes it doesn't to me either. But it is. He's just a friend, and that's fine."

Her family gives her sympathetic looks, and it makes Michelle want to scream. Still, she's grateful for their silent support as they move the conversation on. She hates that they could read her so easily. She hates that Mike had gotten a vibe from Peter that she so desperately wants to feel too.

But she hates most of all that she'd been so adamant that Peter was her friend, even as she treated him like shit.

So when she leaves her family dinner, she calls him.

He picks up almost immediately. "Hello, MJ?"

"Hey Pete," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. Even just hearing him makes her heart twist in her chest. "Sorry...I've been distant."

It had been over a week now since she'd seen him. A few dismissive texts is all.

"That's alright. Is everything okay?"

The care in his voice is obvious. How quickly he'd moved on to worrying about her. God how could she ever get over him?

"I'm going through some stuff," she explains vaguely. "It's just taking a lot of my energy right now."

He's silent for a while. She wishes she knew what he was thinking. "Anything I can do?" he asks at last.

"No...I just—I just wanted to call you, in case you were wondering what's up."

"I was," he says. "Thanks for calling. Can I come by? Bring you something?"

"I don't think that's the best id—"

Peter interrupts her, which is rare. "I didn't mean for sex," he explains quickly.

She clears her throat. "I know you didn't Peter." And she did know. She knows him. "I just—need a little time is all."

He's silent again. Michelle wants to change her mind, and tell him to come over. She wants to curl up in his arms and pretend. But she can't anymore.

"Okay. Do you want me to keep reaching out? Or..."

"I'll call you," she says, and her eyes sting.

"Oh. Okay."

"Talk to you later Peter."

The next day, while she's eating alone on the rooftop, she gets a text from an unknown number.

_Hey, sorry I haven't been able to swing by lately. Can I drop by your roof tonight?_

And unlike with Peter—when she'd wanted to say yes, but said no—Michelle forces her fingers to type her reply.

_Yes_

-0-0-0-

Peter isn't pleased with how things have gone. He appreciated MJ's call yesterday, of course. It was nice to hear her, even if her hesitation to talk to him was louder than her voice. It hurt. It hurt to be shut out after all they'd been through.

But he could hear the pain through the phone, too. She was moving on from him, and it wasn't easy for her. He could find some solace in that. That what they'd been hadn't _just_ been physical for her. It was clear she wasn't in love the way he was—how could she be, and still be moving on to Spider-Man—but she cared about him. It gave him hope that when he eventually took off his mask, she'd be able to merge the feelings she had for Spider-Man with the friendship and care she'd built for Peter.

He just hopes the revelation doesn't turn her against both of them.

But he knows he has to take the chance. That was his whole purpose of visiting her as Spider-Man. The whole point of this torture he'd put himself through, watching her flirt with another guy—even if that guy was him—was to have this chance.

He lands on her rooftop. The sun is setting, an aureate glow hovers over the city skyline. MJ stands, staring out at the beautiful scene, and she makes it only more beautiful in his eyes.

"Been a while," she comments, and doesn't turn from the city to look at him.

"Sorry," Peter mumbles. "I could've at least sent you a message."

She turns finally to look at him. And she looks sad. "It's fine. I'm sure you had a city to save."

Peter hadn't felt bad giving her the same silent treatment as Spider-Man that she'd been giving Peter. But he does now. From her perspective, she'd really put herself out there giving her number and address to him, and then he'd been silent.

"Actually, I was just really nervous," Peter admits. Perhaps not the whole truth, but he owes her some level of it.

She snorts, but he notes that her smile isn't reaching her eyes. He wonders if it's because of Spider-Man or because of her call with Peter yesterday. "Nervous to visit me? You've been doing it for weeks now. Months."

Peter steps closer to her. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted. He does want. But her arms are crossed, and she doesn't hold his gaze for long before averting her eyes back to the city.

"This is different, and you know it," he says.

She sighs and looks back at him, and steps closer. "Yeah, I know."

"You have a beautiful view," he tells her, but doesn't look away from her face. Instead, he reaches up, and tucks her hair behind her ear. She shuts her eyes, and her expression is pained. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, but leans into his touch as he cups her cheek. "This is all pretty confusing, don't you think?"

He tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

She snorts again, and glares at him, unimpressed. "Well, maybe this is normal for you. But usually I know the name and face of a guy before I invite him to my place."

He shakes his head. "I'm not here for—"

"Yeah, I _know_ dude," she interrupts. "Doesn't change my point."

And he supposes she's right. MJ is at a much bigger disadvantage than him, just by virtue of the mask. And that's _before_ factoring in that Peter knows her from his other life.

"It's not normal for me either," he tells her. "I'm trying to figure this out, too. But I really like you, MJ."

She bites her lip, and reaches out to set her hands on his chest. Surely she can feel the way his heart beats harder from her touch. Her hands snake up to his neck, and finds the seam of his mask.

He grabs her wrists. "Wait."

She doesn't move, but her thumbs stay tucked under his mask. Inches. She's inches from knowing the truth, and suddenly Peter doesn't feel at all prepared.

"Just partway," she bargains. "I want to touch your skin. See your lips."

Her suggestion is clear, even if she doesn't say it. She wants to kiss him. And he desperately wants to kiss her again. But she'd recognize him, he's sure of it. Even if by some miracle she doesn't, the voice modulation would no longer be active.

"MJ," he whispers, and runs his gloved hands up from her wrist to find her palms. He pulls her hands down and interlocks their fingers. "Not yet."

Her eyes flash. "Not yet?" she snaps. "When? After six months of this? What else could possibly be the next step?"

He swallows. "I need you to be sure."

She shakes her head in disbelief and pulls her hands from him. "What...what do you mean _sure_?" she asks. "If you think I'll, I don't know, _fall in love_ with you before I see your face or say your name, you're either an idiot or way too confident, man."

The sun has gone down, now. The golden glow has turned purple, and the shadow that falls on both of them only highlights the countless emotions dancing over Michelle's face. Peter doesn't know everything she's going through, but he can sense it's far more than the frustration this conversation has sparked.

So he gently reaches back out to take her hands. "I'm not being clear. I'm sorry."

She takes a few breaths and refocuses on him. "Okay. So what are you saying?"

"There's no undoing an identity reveal, MJ. I want to show you who's under the mask. I want to take you to dinner. I want to kiss you. But if that's all this might be, it's not enough. If we give this a try and it doesn't work, that's fine. It will have been worth my identity. But Michelle, it has to be a real try. And I need you to be sure that's what this is."

She stares at him, long and hard. He can't discern _what_ she's thinking, only that she _is_ thinking. And it looks almost painful to her.

"Okay," she whispers. "That makes sense."

"That makes sense, or you want to give us a real shot?"

She bites her bottom lip. "Can I have a few days to think about it? To...really understand what I'm feeling?"

Peter's eyes sting. Is she thinking about _him_ right now? Is she thinking about saying no to _both_ of him?

"Of course," he says, and swallows thickly.

She steps forward and wraps him in a hug. He squeezes her tight, and worries. Is this the last time he'll hold her? Her grip feels desperate, and he's not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one. But he does know, for all of the inside information he's had on her by being two different people, Peter has _no_ idea what's going through her head right now.

-0-0-0-

It had to be some great big cosmic joke that hugging Spider-Man felt like hugging Peter Parker.

As if her dilemma wasn't already fucked up enough.

It has been three days of endless internal debate and frustration and hurt, and she's not sure she's any closer to having an answer for Spider-Man than she was when he'd told her.

"You have to be sure," Michelle whispers to herself, not for the first time.

She wasn't sure. Not at all. Even if she were sure she needed to move on from Peter—which she isn't—was she sure she could give a fair shot to Spidey? Was he doomed to be a rebound? Or were the feelings she had for him deep enough?

She likes him. She knows that. If this were any other time in her life, Michelle's fairly confident she would be ready for the plunge. But she's carrying Peter-sized baggage on her back right now, and that's no way to start a relationship, particularly one with stakes as large as Spider-Man's identity.

But that's at least one thing she can do. Address the baggage head-on. No ghosting. No stilted conversation over the phone. And maybe, just maybe, with the imminent end to their arrangement, Peter will tell her he was wrong about himself. That he'd caught feelings along the way.

So she texts Peter.

_Hey Peter. Can you come over tonight?_

His answer isn't immediate. She wonders if he's busy or if he's staring at her words, trying to understand their intent. Should she be more clear? She's not inviting him over for sex. But to talk. To...end things, such as they were.

But he responds before she comes to any decision.

 _I'll be there in twenty_.

Michelle wants to laugh and to cry at the response. His tardiness has always been some odd mixture of endearing and infuriating. The one thing she can point to that would annoy her in a real relationship with him. It'll be nice to be reminded of this fault one last time.

So naturally, he arrives nineteen minutes later.

-0-0-0-

Peter's palms sweat when he knocks on her door.

He'd thought it was over. He thought the phone call would be the last time he'd hear her voice as Peter until he took his mask off for her.

He'd stared at his phone in disbelief for almost an entire minute when he'd gotten her text. An invitation to come over again. And with it, a spark of hope. Had Spider-Man's ultimatum driven her to some sort of critical realization? If she could risk going for it with a nameless, faceless hero, could she also risk it with Peter?

Peter doesn't know. But when the door opens up and Michelle is standing there, beautiful and brilliant as always, Peter doesn't much care either. She'd invited him back.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hey," she replies with a shivering bottom lip.

"I missed you," he finds himself saying, and steps into her apartment. His lips crash against hers.

She whimpers into his lips while he wraps his hands around her waist. She feels stiff in his grasp, to the point where he's about to pull back.

But just before he does, her arms wrap around his neck, and they stumble back into her apartment. Peter kicks the door closed, and reaches up to brush hair from her face as they back through her apartment. Past the sitting room and kitchen, down the hall. Her kisses are frantic until he pushes her back against her bedroom door.

"Peter wait," she gasps, and tilts her head down to stop his kisses. Instead, he presses his forehead to hers, and holds her tight. He can feel her ribs under his thumbs, and the heavy beat of her heart echoes through his whole body.

"Yeah Em?" he prompts. She grips his biceps hard.

"I...I don't know what to say," she manages, and Peter wants to cry with joy. How can he tell her she doesn't need to tell him she's made her choice. That there was a choice to make at all.

"Then don't say anything," he whispers. She finally looks up at him with a frown. "Just let me make you feel good."

"Fuck," she says, eyes screwed shut. And, after a beat. "Please."

So he hoists her onto his hips, opens her door, and steps into her bedroom. They undress each other slowly. He wants to make love to her so she knows it's not just about sex anymore. Every touch of her skin is purposeful, every whisper of her beauty carries his affection. When he lays her on her bed and dips his head between her legs, he interlocks his fingers with hers.

"Peter," she repeats his name over and over. Her voice isn't the same; there's a longing that he hasn't heard before. Not like this. So he tries to give whatever she longs for.

He knows her body inside and out by now. Knows just how to lick inside her, how to circle her clit before passing back and forth, and when to press his fingers inside her. He knows the squeeze of her hand in his, the tug of his hair, the moan from her lips.

He hums into her when she's close. "Em," he says, lips dancing on her. "Em come for me. You come so fucking good." And when she starts calling out his name one more time, he wraps his lips around her and sucks.

Her back arches off the bed, and Peter rolls his hips into the mattress, seeking some relief of the hard ache between his legs. But he stays focused, pulsing his fingers as she comes, dragging out her pleasure as she comes down, down.

"Peter," she whimpers again, and once more Peter can't place the emotion in her voice. There's definitely longing, but a sadness too.

"Are you feeling good yet?" he asks, lifting his mouth from her.

She looks down at him, a storm behind her eyes. "I...I need you, Peter."

He nods, and quickly finds his pants to fish out a condom. He kneels between her legs and slides into her, and they both let out a gasp.

It had only been a little over a week, he realizes. And yet it had felt like so much longer. He hadn't thought he'd be inside of her again—not unless things with Spider-Man went just right. And he's not sure it could have. Instead, he can only grip her waist tightly and thank her silently for choosing him.

"Peter, please come closer," she asks, and reaches for him. He lies on top of her, her breasts pressed tight to his chest, and she wraps her arms around him. One of her hands snakes up his back, nails dragging along his skin until she can tangle her fingers in his hair. They kiss, a soft and tender press of his lips to hers. He slants his mouth against hers as he begins a slow roll of his hips.

She brings her legs up, tucking the heels of her feet against his backside. He's not sure he's ever felt so connected to her, head to toe. He fits his hands between her back and the bedspread and tries to pull her even tighter to him.

"Em," he whispers into her mouth. Her breath comes out sharp against his lips. _I love you_ , he wants to say. But he refrains. She's only just brought him back. They can work towards that. "Missed you so much," he tells her instead.

Her nails dig into his back, and her eyes squeeze shut again. "Peter, please," she says, and he hears it again. The pain and the longing in her voice. He doesn't understand.

"What's wrong?" he asks, soft, and pulls back far enough only to brush his hand across her cheek.

"You can't say things like that," she says.

He stops. Because her voice isn't playful. She's serious. And melancholy. "Wha—what?"

She takes deep breaths, and then shifts enough for him to get the point. He pulls out of her and sits back. When she finally looks back at him, there are tears in her eyes. "I can't...I can't do this anymore."

All the breath in his body leaves. All the breathable air in the room vanishes.

"You _can't_ do this?" he croaks out. "What do you mean?"

"Rule number two," she says weakly, and Peter's heart shatters. Rule Two—if there's someone else, _this_ ends. So she hadn't chosen him after all. But it didn't make any sense. Why would she even invite him over here?

And then the anger comes, hot like a flash.

"So... _what,_ " he cries, and stands from the bed. "You...you invited me over here for one last fuck!"

Her face drops. "No, Peter—"

But he can't listen to her. He can't even _imagine_ what is going through her head. Her experience with him is so clearly miles apart from what his has been with her. He has no way of empathizing with what she's done.

"Fuck, MJ," he shouts, and pulls on his pants. "I know we said this was just sex, but _fuck_ are you kidding me with this? You find someone else and think 'well, I better have Peter one last time.'"

"Peter I swear that's not what I meant!" She has tears running down her face, and it's almost enough to make him stop. But the combination of anger and heartbreak won't allow him. He pulls on his shirt.

"Good luck, Michelle," he says, and storms out of her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...only one more chapter of these dummies after this! Just hold on a little longer. They'll (probably) figure it out!


	7. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr) for her help in understanding these two dummies, and [Machi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/pseuds/Machiavelien) for her gorgeous [art](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/645561158068322304/about-that-upside-down-spidey-kiss-happy) that inspired the...erm...climax of this fic.

-0-0-0-

Michelle has written and deleted at least seven walls of text over the last few days. A couple were too formal. A couple sounded like she blamed _him_ too much. Which, sure, if he wasn't so unbelievably gorgeous and loveable, she might not have been drawn in by his kiss. But it definitely wasn't his _fault_.

She's retraced the night a thousand times in her mind. She's not normally like this, dwelling on mistakes and regrets. But the night is on a torturous loop in her head, from the way she melted into his kiss instead of pulling back. Or when she finally had the willpower to stop him, but had immediately crumbled when he'd asked to make her feel good. And when he'd told her he missed her, and it hurt so much to know that he'd never miss her like she missed him.

And to top it all off, how she'd given no explanation beyond saying she was calling it quits for Rule Number Two. In the second or two it took Peter to jump to the wrong conclusion about what that meant, Michelle could only stare in horror as the hurt and the anger overtook him.

And honestly, if the roles were reversed, and he'd shown up after ghosting her for a week, fucked her, and then told her he was done? She'd have been a furious wreck too.

Spider-Man occasionally crosses her mind in between replays of the night. He is awaiting her response, after all. But as much as she likes the guy, she can't bring herself to care about that situation when she'd caused Peter such pain.

She'd never seen him angry like that. She'd never seen pain in his eyes like that. It made her want to cry. More than she already had.

So, even though she's not satisfied with her message yet, she knows she needs to start her apology somewhere. She only hopes that it helps him. She hates the idea that she's doing this only to ease her own guilt.

_I won't blame you if you don't read this. But I need to tell you how sorry I am. I invited you over because I thought you deserved an explanation of why I've been distant and why I had to end things. Face to face. And when you arrived and kissed me...I just let myself get caught up in you. I should have been clear from the start. I should have stopped you a dozen times before I did. And when I did, I should have given you the explanation you deserved instead of whatever it was I said. I'm sorry._

He doesn't respond for a few hours. She stresses over whether he got the message or not. Whether it only reignited the pain instead of healing it. Whether he hates her. But he does respond after a time.

_Thanks for telling me, MJ. Sorry I left before you had a chance to explain._

It only makes her feel worse. This acceptance, this seeming forgiveness, this _apology_. It was so Peter, and the tears threatened to fall anew.

_Please don't apologize Peter. That was 100% on me_

_It's not. I promise._

Michelle stares at the words. She can't fathom how this could be his fault despite his insistence, and she considers responding with that. But he follows up his message before she can.

_Do you think we could meet for lunch or something? I don't want that to be the last conversation we have._

She's not sure she can take seeing him again. But there's only one answer.

_Of course_

-0-0-0-

Peter feels a deep sadness looking at Michelle across the table. The first time he goes out with her, just the two of them, is to say goodbye.

"Oh, Michelle!" the waiter says as he approaches the table. "No Betty today?"

"Oh shit," Michelle says, surprising Peter. He never imagined her being one to be outwardly rude to a waiter. "Hey Paul. No, this is Peter, _who you don't know_."

It is clear from her voice that Paul _did_ know who Peter was. Even clearer when Paul turns, wide-eyed, to see him. "Oh, well. Hello Peter. My name is Paul and I will be your server today."

"Hey Paul," Peter says, and throws Michelle a _look_. She's blushing, and it's adorable. His heart hurts.

Paul takes their drink orders and scampers away. "Talking about me?" Peter says slyly.

"Oh my god," Michelle groans and buries her head in her hands. "That poor waiter has had to overhear a few details that were meant to stay girl-talk."

Peter laughs aloud. "Like what?"

MJ glares at him. "Oh I don't know, the outlandishly impressive orgasm count over the last several months maybe?"

Peter laughs again and stares fondly at her. "Ned never wanted the details," he admits to her so she feels a little less embarrassed. "I gave him some anyway."

Michelle chuckles, and Peter can't express how relieved he is that there's still comfort between them. There's a heavy tension, sure. There has been since he rushed in, ten minutes late, apologizing to her before sitting down. But for all of the unsaid things between them, there's countless more they have said. Michelle is his friend. And the whole purpose of proposing lunch was to preserve that.

He'd need to. For his own well-being as well as for Spider-Man to have any chance when the mask came off.

"It's good to see you, Peter," she says, interrupting his thoughts. "I honestly wasn't sure you'd ever want to again."

He swallows. "It sucked, I'm not going to lie. But...your explanation made a lot of sense. I only wish I'd let you give it. Sorry for getting so angry."

Truthfully, after he'd read her text, Peter realized most of the problem had come because he was Spider-Man, and knew something of what was going through her head. He knew she was making a choice, and had therefore assumed she'd chosen him. But MJ didn't know he knew. So she was only doing the decent thing and ending things with him in person. And it was so in line with the woman he'd fallen in love with, of course he'd believed her and wanted to fix things immediately.

His own blame in the misunderstanding and blow-up weighed on him, and he only hoped she could understand when it eventually came out. _If_ it eventually came out. She hadn't contacted Spider-Man yet, and Peter was terrified he'd ruined _everything_ that night.

"I get it. I'd have been mad if the situation was reversed. And I know I already wrote it in a text, but...I'm sorry, Peter," she says, lips pulled in a tight frown. She plays with her nails on the table. "It wasn't cool how I handled all of that."

It wasn't. He's still surprised that his kiss and touch had been enough to distract her from her original goal that night. Being told they were done while he was deep inside of her was more than a little jarring. But he doesn't want to belabor the point. She apologized. And he forgave her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "It's alright. We're good. But while I admire you taking responsibility, I need you to know I'm also to blame. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, and he knows she won't acknowledge his fault in this with the limited information she has. But he presses her. "No, MJ. Please believe me," he says with imploring eyes. "This was not just on you. I made some wrong assumptions, and...just some bad communication going both ways, okay?

Michelle snorts, and gives him a sad smile before squeezing his hand back. Paul arrives with their waters. Before leaving, he narrows his eyes at Michelle, and she shakes her head at him. Peter wonders what the silent communication is about.

"So...who's the lucky guy?" Peter asks. He's not sure if he's being masochistic or if he needs a little indication that he's still got a chance through Spider-Man.

She frowns for a moment, like she's confused at the question. Then she shakes her head. "Oh, right. He's..." she smiles and laughs. "You honestly wouldn't believe me. But he's a good dude. I'm pretty sure you'd like him."

"Oh yeah?" Peter says, biting back a smirk.

Michelle nods. "If we're confessing things," she says with a chuckle. Peter takes a sip of his water, not allowing his heart to quicken at the idea of a real confession. "I very briefly entertained the idea of inviting the two of you for a threesome."

Peter spits out his water, and sputters as he tries to gather himself.

Michelle laughs, eyes dancing. "Not a threesome kind of guy, I see," she says and hands him her napkin.

Still coughing, Peter shakes his head while he wipes up his spit-take. "Um, yeah, no. Probably not in this case." That would be _one_ way to reveal his identity to her. "So is it not serious with this other guy, if you were thinking about that?"

Her face grows soft. "It's not serious yet, no...but mostly, I was grasping at straws. I just didn't want to say goodbye to you." Her voice catches. "I'm really going to miss you, Peter."

His eyes sting. "Yeah, me too MJ." He clears his throat. "But...just because this arrangement is over, doesn't mean...doesn't mean we can't still be friends, right? Get together like this sometimes?"

She smiles. "I'd really like that." She pauses. "But...maybe after a little while?"

He frowns. "Sure. Why?"

"You and I...we were really good. You know?" Her face is sad again, and Peter feels the desperate longing creep back into him. Yeah. They were really good. They could have been great. "I just...don't want what we had to be hanging over a new relationship."

Peter nods. "I get it." Trying to lighten the mood, he winks at her. "No sense in comparing cock when no one can fuck like me, right?"

She doesn't have time to laugh or scoff at his joke. Instead, it's the poor waiter Paul who gets in the first reaction, carrying their orders on a tray. "No fucking way," he exclaims, to Peter's surprise. " _This_ guy too, Michelle? You can't have these conversations while I'm away?"

MJ cringes through her laughter, and Peter sputters an apology. They'll have to leave a generous tip.

-0-0-0-

Lunch with Peter is almost everything she thought it would be. The perfect companion. After they cleared the air, it was easy conversation and good vibes the rest of the way. It's only fitting that her last hour spent with him for the foreseeable future would see her falling just a little harder for him, and be accompanied by the sharpest of pains in her chest.

After they step out of the diner together, they stand for endless seconds and stare helplessly at each other.

"Thanks for this," Peter mumbles. "I...I'm really glad for what we had. Really happy I got to spend these months with you. And I'm sorry."

She frowns. " _You're_ sorry," she asks, confused. If he's trying to accept even _more_ blame for that night... "Peter that was my faul—"

He holds up his hand and shakes his head. "No, not for that. Which was also partly my fault," he squeezes in quickly. "No, for...a lot of things. The next time we get together, I promise I'll tell you all about the ways I messed up. But for now...I just really hope you've found happiness with this guy MJ."

She wants to cry again. Because the happiness she found is standing in front of her. But here he is, wishing her luck with Spider-Man. "If you're apologizing for giving me an STD or something," she starts with a smile.

He only laughs and shakes his head. "No. Nothing like that. I'm hoping it's something we can laugh about sooner than later. But for now, just know I might have done something stupid. And I hope you can forgive me when we talk about it next."

She shakes her head at him. "Never pegged you for the mysterious type."

"Oh you pegged me alright," he quips with a wink.

"Oh my god."

He opens his arms to hug her. "Oh you love it."

And yeah. She does. She steps forward into his embrace and fights off the swell in her throat and the burn behind her eyes. She tucks her chin over his shoulder and hugs him tight. This was never real. He could never feel what she did. But it was real _for her_. And so she holds on to him like a frightened child clings to her stuffed animal. He clings back.

For as much as it hurt, Michelle feels lighter after her lunch with Peter than she has in weeks. Maybe months. She still loves him with all of her heart, and would do anything to let him feel the same way. But she's not carrying any baggage anymore. They had moved on from that terrible last night. He'd forgiven her. And the lie of her denial is over.

She texts Spider-Man that night, apologizing for the delay, and asking for a little more time. He graciously extends her the time, flirtatiously repeating the words he'd said to her before. She is worth waiting for. Truth be told, she's still not sure she has an answer for him. Just because she's ready to move on from Peter doesn't mean she's ready to commit to someone else.

But her lunches alone on her building's roof do start to catch up to her. She misses Peter. But she misses climbing on the edge of the building with Spider-Man too. And while she can't get Peter back. She _can_ be with Spider-Man. And maybe she won't miss Peter so much if she does.

Two weeks after her lunch with Peter, she thinks she has an answer for Spider-Man.

The sun has already set when he comes by this time. He told her he'd be coming by later. She wonders if it's because he's prepared to take off his mask, and doesn't want it light out for casual observers in neighboring buildings. It's a thrilling thought, and her heart beats with the anticipation as well as the fear.

Was she _actually_ ready for this?

"I was really happy you texted," he says softly when he lands. "I know I was playing it cool, but I was really nervous you weren't going to message me back."

She nods. "Sorry. I've been...making sure I was in a good place for this."

"That's fine," he says hurriedly. "So...you are then? In a good place?"

"I—I think I am. I know you said I should be sure, so maybe that means I'm not."

He steps closer to her, and his hands find her forearms before sliding down slowly. It feels strange when he reaches her hands and she feels his suit instead of skin. Unbidden, an image of Peter's fingers interlocked with her own flashes through her mind.

"So what's holding you up?" Spider-Man asks softly, and she shakes her head of the image.

"I like you, Spidey," she admits, rather than telling him about the memory lingering in her mind. "I think I could really like you."

She bites her lip. "But?" he asks.

She shakes her head. No. She's already had this debate countless times. She's ready. She's prepared to give Spider-Man her all. It shouldn't matter that _one_ of the reasons happens to be to move on from Peter. She's got a dozen others for wanting to know Spidey.

"No 'but'," she says, determined. "I'm in."

Spider-Man doesn't move for a long few seconds, staring at her. She matches his gaze. Then he releases her hands.

"Okay," he says softly. "I...thank you for taking this chance MJ. I hope—I hope I end up being worth it."

He reaches his hands up to his mask, and starts lifting, but Michelle can hear only static. And at the first glimpse of the skin of his neck, Michelle calls out, "Wait!"

She catches his hands before the mask reaches his chin, and pulls it back down.

"Um...wait?" Spider-Man asks.

"I—I can't do this," she says.

"You can't do this?" Spider-Man repeats, and there's a sick sort of poetry to him matching Peter's words from that night.

That night when she _really_ should have taken the chance. When the person truly and definitively was worth the risk.

"I'm so sorry," she says and squeezes his hands as they drop back between them. "You deserve...so much better than this. I—I do really like you. And at any other time, I'd be ready for this. But I can't do this right now."

His hands grip hers tightly, like he's afraid of letting her go. "Why?"

"I'm in love with someone else," she says simply. "And he deserves to know even though there's no chance. And _you_ deserve better than trying to help me get over him. I'm sorry."

She turns to leave, but Spider-Man catches her hand. "Michelle, wait."

She only shakes her head when she looks back at him. "If you still care to try after I get my heart broken," she says with a self-deprecating laugh, "and after I've hit up a dating app for a few months to get him out of my system, then great. But I don't expect you to wait."

"MJ," he says her name again. He reaches for his mask, and pulls it up.

She screws her eyes shut. "Are you crazy!" she shouts. "I _just_ told you I wasn't ready! Don't make this worse, dude."

"Em," comes his voice again. But it's not his voice. It's Peter's voice. And it's the name only _he_ uses.

She opens her eyes, and just about falls over, because standing there where Spider-Man had been, wearing all of Spider-Man's costume except for the mask, is Peter Parker.

He has a half-smile. He looks guilty and embarrassed and _happy_ all at once.

"I...I..." she mutters, unable to acknowledge the most obvious of truths standing before her, because it _makes no sense._

"I'm in love with you too," he tells her, as if adding one _more_ bombshell is at all appropriate. Then he frowns. "Assuming I was the guy you were talking about."

"Wait, fuck, just _wait_ a second Peter. What the _hell_ is going on?"

His brow bunches and when she has time to process _one more thing_ she will acknowledge it is cute. But now is _not_ that time. "I'm Spider-Man," he says with a shrug.

She lets out a groan. "Well no shit!" she almost screams. Peter looks around them, so she drops her voice. "Are you telling me...well, I don't even know. Why the fuck are you Spider-Man?"

Peter's face is pure confusion again. "Well, I was bitten by a radioactive Spider when I—"

"Oh my god, Peter, stop," she says. Though, admittedly, she wants to hear that story too. Just not right now. "Why did you come see me as Spider-Man? Why didn't you tell me you were Spider-Man? Why have you been playing this _game_ for months?"

Peter's face falls. "No, no MJ not a game. I swear I didn't mean it to be like that. I just—" he stops and his eyes dart across her face. "I fell in love with you. And when we talked about love—you made it sound like it would take a special sort of person and timing to make it possible. And...and I thought that meant you and I didn't have a chance. So I tried to give us a second chance. Through Spidey."

She shakes her head. "You were my special sort of person," she says softly. And his smile could light the night sky if the moon weren't out tonight. But she's upset, too. "You told me you couldn't feel that way anymore."

"I couldn't. Before you." He reaches out to catch her hands in his. And even though it's still Spider-Man's suit touching her skin, it's _Peter_ again. And she doesn't have to fight off images of Peter. It _is_ Peter. And he loves her. "I was afraid of losing you if I told you, so I kept my feelings secret." He pauses. "Well, as secret as I could. I thought I was pretty obvious sometimes."

MJ shakes her head. "I'd be more upset with you if I hadn't done the exact same thing in the opposite direction. I thought you could never love me back, so I tried to move on while keeping my feelings quiet." It's then that she remembers, and she pulls her hands back from him. "Hold up. If you knew I was leaving you for _you_ , why did you get so pissed that night?"

Peter looks ashamed, and scratches at the back of his neck. "When you called me over, I thought that meant you were choosing _me_. You know, Peter. The average guy who had fallen for you. I thought it meant I had a chance. I almost confessed to loving you that night. And when you went with the other guy...it broke my heart. Plus with everything else that happened, I saw red. I'm sorry."

She replays the night in her head once more—she'd done it enough times to know it backwards and forwards by now. And yeah, she can see it all on his face now. And her own role in his hurt feels even worse now, knowing he was in love with her the whole time. She can re-contextualize every look he's given her over these months. Every touch and whisper. And it's all so clear now.

"It's okay," she says honestly. Because there's so much to look forward to, why look back? She reaches out for his hands one more time. "We both clearly needed to communicate better. To be more honest."

Peter nods. "I'm done letting fear of losing you keep me from saying what I feel. I love you, MJ. I trust you with every part of me, and I want to spend my life proving I'm worthy of your trust."

He steps closer to her, and brings a hand to cradle her cheek. "You've got nothing left to prove, Peter," she tells him, and leans in for a kiss.

Their kiss on the rooftop is soft and gentle. Their kiss when they make their way down to MJ's apartment is anything but.

Their tongues dance as they stumble toward her bedroom door. It's a sloppy kiss in their desperation to get to her bed, but the alternative is keeping her lips off of his until they arrive, and that's a nonstarter. Peter pushes her against her door, and they freeze to press their foreheads together, hurried breath fanning each other's faces as they pause for just a moment.

"I love you, MJ," he tells her again, and starts unbuttoning her top. She's still not used to his confession of love. The thrill of it rushes through her. And she's reminded of the last time they were in this exact position, and she was trying to work up the willpower to tell him it was over. Instead, she says what she should've said that night.

"I love you, Peter."

And then it's frantic again. His lips find her neck, hot and wet, and his hands work furiously at her pants. She's reminded that he can just rip them off of her with his inhuman strength, so she's grateful he takes the time to let them drop from her waist. He opens the door while she fumbles at his waist for a seam in his suit.

While he backs her into her room, the combination of these thoughts and her lack of success in getting him out of the suit prompts her to say, "I can't believe you've been fucking Spider-Man this whole time." She can accept that Peter, _her_ Peter, did the stupidest thing imaginable in an attempt to be with her. She's still struggling that he's _actually_ the super hero of New York, even if the evidences start to pile up in her memories.

He tugs at the right place of his suit so she can get her hands under the top. "No, you're the one that's been fucking Spider-Man this whole time," Peter says with a grin. And yeah. She deserves that one. She walked right into it.

Still. "Oh my god, dork. Now I'm definitely not convinced you're cool enough to be him."

Peter backs away from her, still grinning, and says, "Let me prove it to you." And he jumps and flips, an insane feat already, and lands on her ceiling, like he's taken a knee. It's unsettling in a way, to see a human—much less Peter—stick to the ceiling like that. But his hair hangs adorably in the air. His smile, though upside-down, charms her. She reaches up to cup his face in her hands, and steps toward him. He straightens his back, and lifts slightly off his knee so his head drops down to her level.

She presses her lips to his, and she knows she'll never find his stickiness unsettling again. In the strangest of ways, she feels like she was always supposed to kiss him like this. It's _their_ kiss. Peter must agree, because he looks dazed when he pulls back. "Wow."

"Yeah," she nods.

His eyes dart up, which is her down, and at the heat in his eyes, she realizes what a state he's managed to get her in without her realizing. Her top is completely unbuttoned, and hanging open. Her pants lie at her bedroom door. And Peter's mouth hangs open, in obvious approval of her state of undress.

He stands a little taller, bit by bit, and brings his lips back to her body. He kisses down her face, and she raises her chin for him so his lips can find the column of her neck. She brings her hands to tangle in his hair when he sucks on her collarbone. His gloved hands reach up and slide inside her shirt, just below her breasts. His hands facing the opposite direction from what she's used to is exciting and fresh. While his lips reach the fabric of her bra, he tries to unhook it behind her back.

He chuckles into her skin. "A little tricky doing this upside-down." Michelle laughs with him until the garment comes loose and his lips cover her nipple.

His hands trail down her body, so she mirrors him, reaching up, tracing the muscles up his stomach. Just as his hands reach her underwear and tug them down, Michelle covers the outline of his erection with her hand and gently rubs him.

Peter exhales sharply through his teeth as she shimmies out of her underwear. He stands on his tip-toes, and his lips kiss just above her belly-button. "So close," he whimpers.

Michelle is a little luckier. She tugs the bottoms of his suit down, and his erection springs free. When she goes up on her own toes, she's able to press a kiss to the tip of him.

"No fair," Peter says, as if it's preferable to him to give head than receive it. And...well, experience tells her he might actually think that.

She kisses him again with smirk. "We might have to install a step-stool on the ceiling."

"Cute," he says, and Michelle can hear his grin. Then he wraps his arms around her, one under her ass, another around the small of her back, and he _lifts_ her.

"Oh," she says in surprise, and wraps an arm around his leg to steady herself. But it is unnecessary. Peter has a strong hold of her, and it appears as though bearing her weight has not affected him in the least. Okay. Yes. He's Spider-Man. She gets it. She's not going to tell him to stop proving it though.

" _Oh_!" she says again, this time in a gasp. His lips have successfully found her, and he wastes no time in licking deep inside of her. "Peter, _fuck_."

The nature of this sixty-nine is so wildly different from their past experiences, it takes Michelle a moment to orient herself. She keeps a hold of his leg, if only to give her some control while being held in the air. She rocks gently against his face while his tongue explores deep inside of her. And after she and Peter find a rhythm, she can finally focus again on him.

She takes his cock in her hand , now much more level with her mouth, and wraps her lips around him. She feels his hum of approval between her legs, and it makes her weak. She's well-aware she's going to come long before him at this rate, but that doesn't stop her from trying while she has some focus left.

She pumps him with her free hand while she twirls her tongue round and round. His grip at her waist tightens, and she takes him deeper into her mouth.

"Fuck, Em," she hears him say, having pulled back from eating her out for just a moment. But then he buries his face back into her with a new voracity she isn't prepared for. She has to pull back to take deep, steadying breaths. She does her best to continue stroking him and kissing him, but he's too much.

She lets the electricity run with her blood throughout her whole body, rocking in time with the swipes of his tongue. Her fingernails dig into his thigh as he sucks on her clit, and then she's falling. Falling all while being held, suspended in the air by her upturned lover. But she's the one that doesn't know up from down as her orgasm crashes through her.

"Wow, Peter," she whispers when she comes back to herself. He finally takes his lips from her and lowers her back to the ground. She stands on shaky feet while Peter flips from the ceiling to land back on his feet. He looks a little silly, still mostly in his Spider attire but for his cock out, hard and expecting. His face is wet with her, and he wipes his mouth with his forearm, coating the sleeve of the suit. She hopes it cleans well in the washer and drier.

She kisses him hard. "That was amazing, MJ," he tells her when they pull back. She can only nod in agreement.

"Get all that off," she commands, waving at his suit. She turns to her dresser where she keeps the box of condoms.

He's obviously very practiced in doffing the suit; he's naked and staring at her with fire in his eyes when she turns back around. He steps forward and finally pulls her shirt over her shoulders to leave her completely bare at last. She rolls the condom on him and gives him a few strokes. He smiles softly at her before grabbing her by the hips and lifting her.

He lifts her like she's nothing. But he looks at her like she's everything.

She slides down on him easily, comfortably. He fills her so perfectly, and they both sigh out in relief. Without breaking their connection, Peter lowers them slowly to her bed—another small but inhuman movement of flexibility and strength that further turns her on.

"You've been holding back," she says as he rolls his hips slowly. "This whole time, you've been hiding your abilities around the fringes."

He kisses her. "Sometimes I slipped up. You make me lose control."

"I don't want you to hold back any more, Peter," she says, and scratches at his back.

He flashes her a cocky grin. "I don't want to hurt you, MJ."

"You know what I mean," she says.

His smile drops, and he seems to sense her sincerity. That she's not just talking about making the sex better. "I've never really been completely free with someone," he admits, he shifts on top of her so he can comb his hand through her hair. He stops the slow rock in and out of her just to look at her. The tenderness in his eyes should be illegal. Another kiss. "But you and me...we have time to figure it all out, don't we?"

Michelle's heart thumps pleasantly in her chest. The ache that's been there for months is gone. The belief that her days with Peter were numbered is gone.

"Yeah," she whispers. "We've got time."

-0-0-0-

When Peter awakes the next morning with MJ in his arms, everything in the world feels right.

It's not the first time they've found themselves in this position. Not the first time she turns in his arms and presses kisses to his shoulder and chest. Not the first time she whispers, "Morning, Tiger."

And yet, it's the first time the elation in his chest isn't accompanied by a hollowness.

"Morning, lover," he says and tips her chin to kiss her.

Her nose scrunches adorably. "Morning breath."

Peter smirks. Yeah, he smells it too. "Never used to bother you," he says.

"Oh it did," she comments, and rolls out of bed. "You were just worth it before."

He watches her naked form approvingly as she walks over to her dresser. He can't think of a comeback because she pulls out her underwear and gives him the best of views when she bends over to put it on. Then with a wicked smirk at his silence, she opens another drawer where he'd put a couple changes of clothes, in case of emergency. They made a mess of his clothes enough times to justify some drawer space, though she hadn't put on one of his shirts since that first morning he woke up with her.

His shirt doesn't go past her underwear by more than an inch or so, and his mouth runs dry when she lifts her hands to pull her hair out of the collar, revealing the gorgeous skin of her stomach.

"Am I not worth it anymore?" he finally asks her with a cough.

She saunters back over to the bed, pulling back the blanket to reveal his arousal. As if she needed visual proof. She leans down on the bed to kiss him again, despite the breath. His hands find her hips, and his fingers play at the texture of her underwear and her skin. When she pulls back, she bobs her head back and forth, as if weighing her options.

"Still worth it," she declares. "But now I'm no longer worried about fucking on borrowed time."

She leans back off the bed. Peter tries to catch his breath. "Are you always going to be this much of a tease?"

Her eyes drift down to his erection, and she bites her lip. "Definitely not always," she says breathlessly. "But I want breakfast. You?"

"Only if it's yo—"

"Not me, Peter!" she says with exasperation. Peter laughs.

"Fine, yes. But I'm brushing my teeth first so you don't have an excuse afterwards."

She hums and struts from her room, swinging her hips. Peter groans and tries to calm his body.

Instead of pulling from his drawer, he puts on her sweats again. Like that morning he made a mess of his jeans. It feels appropriate.

He finds his toothbrush in the bathroom, and starts brushing. His toothbrush. When had he even gotten one? After his weekends had started including a sleepover regularly? A drawer. A toothbrush. How stupid had he been to think he and Michelle hadn't been more all along?

When he walks into the kitchen, he sees her at the stove, pouring pancake batter onto a pan. He traces her long, perfect legs and the curve of her hips. Michelle catches him staring in the corner of her eyes and turns to look at him.

"Got yourself under control, I see?" she says, nodding to his crotch.

Peter walks toward her. "Not for long," he says, and settles behind her. He holds her hips and presses a kiss to her neck.

"After breakfast, Peter," she warns. He hears the smile in her voice though.

"I know," he says. "I just want to be close."

She leans back into him while the pancakes cook. "Yeah, I like that." She cuts slices of a banana to throw into the pancakes.

"It was just like this," Peter whispers in her ear. "Except blueberries instead of bananas."

"What was?" she asks.

"The morning I knew I was in love."

She freezes, and then sets down the fruit and her knife. He loosens his grip on her when she tries to turn. When she does, she brings her arms over his shoulders. "Me too," she whispers into his lips, and kisses him. "Same morning."

Peter can't help but chuckle as they pull apart. She's got a small smile on her lips, too. "Months," he says. "Months of being oblivious and stupid."

She closes her eyes. "On the plus side, at least we spent those months fucking something fierce."

Peter snorts. "Right you are." He kisses her again, long and slow. He thinks of the drawer and the toothbrush. "I think were both pretending like we had what we really wanted, but knowing we didn't really have it. And yet..."

"And yet we did," she finishes for him, with another kiss.

They have to throw out the first set of pancakes. They burn while the pair get momentarily lost in each other. MJ stays determined, though, and Peter has to suffer another erection until breakfast is served and they sit across from each other once more.

As they eat, Peter has a giddy energy. "I have some questions for you, MJ," he tells her after a minute.

"Oh yeah?" she asks through a mouthful of pancakes.

"Can I introduce you to May today?"

She smiles softly. "Only if you'll join me for my family dinner tomorrow night."

His heart thuds happily in his chest. "I'd love to," he says.

So despite the drawer and the toothbrush and the familiar breakfast, some things _will_ be changing.

"You had more questions?" she asks.

"Will you go to dinner with me tonight?" he says. "After we swing by FEAST and I introduce you to May, maybe? There's a really good Itali—"

"Yes," she says, and she sounds a little breathless. And he realizes she's been waiting to hear these questions for as long as he's been wanting to ask them.

"And my last question," he says, and his smile is starting to hurt his cheeks. He pushes his empty plate to the side. "Do you want me to fuck you here on this kitchen table, back in your bed, or somewhere in between?"

MJ's eyes darken, and she pushes her plate aside, too. "All of the above."

Their lips meet in a hasty scramble onto the table. And though it was never in question, he is grateful this _one_ aspect of their relationship hasn't changed. He suspects it never will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be a fun, harmless, 10k word, 3-5 chapter fic when I initially set about writing it. It grew beyond what I thought it would because I underestimated just how dumb I could make Peter and MJ. But they made it!! Took 'em a minute, but they made it.
> 
> Hope you had as good a time reading as I had writing!! Thanks so much for your support along the way!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying! Drop a comment if you are!


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